Captive at Number 12
by CeliaEquus
Summary: "The Repulsion Jinx missed. How? How could it miss?" And so Hermione became Yaxley's captive. However, there's only so much time two people can spend together before things change. Warning: lots of lemons, even more plot.
1. A Prison Sentence

"A Prison Sentence"

The Repulsion Jinx missed.

How? How could it miss? Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age, _never_ missed. If she had, she would be dead by now. Although, now that she thought about it, her death seemed pretty damned imminent.

As soon as she had felt the Death Eater latch onto her she had struck out, fearful that he might breach headquarters. However, her aim went askew, her wand fell from her hand and the next thing she knew she was staring at Harry and Ron from a Death Eater's arms.

"Let go of me!" she shouted, trying to wriggle away. He just chuckled, his wand digging into her neck. When Ron stepped towards them, Yaxley muttered a charm. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Now you're stuck with me, Mudblood," he hissed into her ear, his eyes never leaving the two boys. "Handy things, Sticking Charms, aren't they?"

Sure enough, when Hermione tried to pull away from him she discovered that he had glued them together. When she placed a hand on his arm to wrench it away she cried out in pain. He grunted as she continually tugged at their fused skin.

"Undo it. _Please_," she begged.

"Tell your boyfriends to drop their wands," he said.

Over Harry and Ron's loud protests Hermione spoke.

"Get out of here!" She continued to struggle against her captor. "Go on! You have to!"

"We're not leaving you, `Mione," Harry said, watching Yaxley. All three wands were still raised. "Let her go!"

"You can't take her if she's in pieces," he replied, pressing the tip of his wand further into the skin of her neck. She winced at the sharp pain.

"No!" Ron shouted. He lowered his wand, followed by a reluctant Harry.

"What are you doing?" Hermione said, wide-eyed.

"What I want them to do," Yaxley said. With a flick of his wrist his wand was now trained on Harry. Hermione could have rolled her eyes at yet another mistake made by her friend against her advice. As it was she only felt fear.

"Look at the situation, Potter," he continued. "I am set to kill you. As soon as I do, if your blood traitor friend tries to hit me, the Mudblood will act as my shield. Though I wonder what's so special about her?" He bent his head far enough to smell her hair, still watching Harry and Ron, and took a deep sniff. Ron looked furious and began to move.

As soon as he did warning sparks flew out of Yaxley's wand, almost touching Harry.

"Go!" Hermione screamed. This time, her struggles were to throw Yaxley's aim, and to throw her bag at the boys with her free hand. She looked desperately at her friends as she did so. Couldn't they see what she was trying to do?

Apparently, for the first time, they did.

"Avada Kedavra!" Yaxley shouted. Hermione shrieked and turned her face into his shoulder, afraid to see one of her friends die. She heard Yaxley swear and, trembling, turned around.

Relief swept through her. The sounds of Apparation must have been masked by her uncharacteristic screaming. There was no sign of either Ron or Harry… only the place where Mrs. Black's portrait used to hang. It was now lying on the ground and its subject was completely still. Yaxley cursed again, but Hermione could only beam. It was too late for Sirius to see his tyrannical mother silenced, but at least it was done now.

For some reason she twisted around and threw her arms around his shoulders. No doubt it was the relief. Briefly her mind worked out that the charm had worn off, freeing her from his grasp. As soon as this registered she pulled back, horrified. Yaxley noticed this.

Before she could prepare to Disapparated he had pressed her up against the now-empty wall and fastened her hands above her head.

Her face was flushed and her chest heaving with panicked breaths. Looking at her he didn't think of her as a Muggleborn, or even as Harry Potter's friend. She was just an attractive girl flush against his body, in the perfect position for a quickie against the wall.

Immediately he berated himself for thinking about taking a Mudblood, of all things. The Dark Lord would flip if he knew, and just thinking of how degrading it would be!

Not… not that anyone needed to know. Yaxley was an Occlumens. His Lord never needed to know. And a man had needs…

Hermione watched with trepidation as her captor's expression changed from anger to something she had only ever read about in her mother's secret stash of steamy romance novels. She swallowed visibly as his gaze travelled down to her chest and then back up again.

"Please don't hand me over," she whispered. A tremble had made its way into her voice. "Just kill me or let me go. Don't send me to… to _him_."

"My dear Miss Granger," he purred, "I have no intention of releasing you." He smirked. "But if you really wish to avoid the attentions of my master, I'm sure that we can come to a very nice arrangement."

She was not naïve as all that, yet she was determined to know his offer.

"W-what kind of arrangement?"

"What do you think?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "In exchange for your life, you please me whenever and _how_ever I wish it of you. You'll be confined to this place," his lips twitched, "but anything is surely better than that which you fear the most." She still didn't reply. "If you were not so appealing to my physically I would never dream of contaminating myself with the flesh of a Mudblood. However," he pressed his pelvis hard against her, "I wouldn't mind seeing how good filth can be."

_You could still get out of here_, she told herself. _He can't watch you forever. And someone could still get in here. Just say…_

"Yes," she said, louder than she intended. He laughed.

"Eager wench, aren't you?" he said. She blushed furiously as his hands ran up and down her sides. "Very well. But for now…"

All hope drained away as, trapped and wandless against the wall, Hermione was subjected to a series of complex charms. She recognised each of them, even though she had only read about such things. All were designed in the days when witches had to be confined to home. Why should she be surprised to learn that a Pureblood knew them, even though they had never been part of the school curriculum?

The first bound her to Grimmauld Place. With a wand she could easily break it, and if she practised wandlessly for awhile she could have broken it herself. However, the next spell bound her to Yaxley. If she tried to go anywhere he could Apparate to her side. Any thoughts of ending her life were banished with a charm to prevent her from harming herself.

The clincher was with the last charm: it bound her magic so that she couldn't do even the simplest of incantations, no matter how hard she could try.

When the last layer settled over her she just stared up at the Death Eater in shock.

"Why?" she whispered.

"Why not?" he replied, moving his face closer to hers. He sneered as she swallowed, nervous eyes watching him. "Let's give you a practise run."

He grabbed the backs of her legs and lifted her up against the wall. She cried out and clasped his shoulders.

"Wait!"

"You don't give orders around here, Mudblood," he said, grinding into her and prompting an involuntary shiver. She shook her head.

"I just… this is my… I'm a virgin." Yaxley's eyes lit up. "I just wanted my first time to… be in a bed."

He considered the girl. Why should he give a damn about her comfort? _But_, if she enjoyed herself, it would be amusing to see how ashamed she was afterwards. Yes. Why not make her happy… and miserable?

"Of course," he said seriously. "I can do that for you."

She sighed. "Thank you."

He smirked inwardly as he carried her up the stairs. The Mudblood had thanked him. She didn't seem to have noticed, though. Maybe he would remind her later.

* * *

><p>Hermione trembled as he lowered her onto the bed covers. He had chosen the master bedroom – the only one with a double bed – and the oppressive atmosphere of blood purity was choking her. She squeezed her eyes shut to escape the darkness. It was time to prepare herself for a horrible experience.<p>

It surprised her to feel the feather-light touches of his hands as he slipped the borrowed clothes off her body. Tension flooded out, causing her body to relax totally with each piece of fabric gliding over her skin. She shivered as he pulled away, leaving just her underwear. Maybe he wanted her to participate?

Shakily, she unclasped her bra and dropped it over the side of the bed, soon followed by her knickers. Yaxley paused in his undressing to watch as she laid herself bare before him, slowly meeting his eyes.

_She's a Mudblood_, he reminded himself. _Just a Mudblood. An animal._

He'd never been so turned on before. But then, he'd never been presented by one so innocent in every way. And this one was all for him. She was all his.

"You're all mine," he said as he pulled off the last of his clothing.

"…I am," she said resignedly. She tensed up as he climbed onto the bed and crawled into position over her body. She forced herself to keep eye contact with him. If she looked further then she might lose her nerve.

Then again, she had no choice in this.

"Calm down," he said, pushing her knees apart and fitting himself between her legs. "We're not there yet."

"We're not?"

"No."

"Oh – _oh_!" He had just touched her clit. To have someone else touching it was insanely erotic. Experimentation had never appealed to her, so she quit after the first few times. It made her wonder at the time what Parvati was talking about.

Now, as Yaxley slipped a finger into her and kept his thumb pressed against the sensitive nub, she was beginning to see _very_ clearly.

He bit down on her left nipple and she drew in a sharp breath.

"Not so hard," she said. He looked up at her, halting his shallow finger strokes.

"Very well," he said, knowing that he had time to introduce her to the idea of pleasurable pain. He wet his lips and sucked gently on the same nipple. Hermione gasped, but then relaxed with a smile. Yaxley smirked as arousal gradually leaked out around his hand. He continued to lick and suck her breasts, his fingers bringing her to the brink, before he backed off. She whimpered but didn't move. Within seconds he was hovering over her, lined up and poised to thrust. She looked up at him.

"Just do it," she said. She had seen the Dark Mark on his arm and it sobered her. "Get it over with."

"It won't be like that," he said, tempting as the thought was. "Not this time." He pressed just the head inside first and then paused. He didn't like the way that she was just looking over his shoulder now, unsmiling and unmoving. He had to get her back in the mood for this to be entertaining.

Yaxley lowered one hand back to her clit and played with it gently. That got her attention right enough. Staring at him, her lips parted slightly with her shallow breath, Hermione bucked her hips, taking him further inside. Her head dropped back, eyes closing, tensing in anticipation as he pushed forward further.

"Ah!" she exclaimed as he broke her barrier with one smooth move. He seated himself fully inside before he paused to allow her time to adjust. To tell the truth, he needed the time, too. There was the potential for much pleasure between this Mudblood's legs.

Hermione finally steadied her breathing. It hadn't been as painful as she had anticipated, once she got over the first shock. She finally made eye contact with her captor and nodded.

The first few strokes stung her sensitive skin a bit and made her whimper, but as he thrust deeper she was soon moving with him. Nature prevailed as their bodies grew hotter and their actions grew faster.

"Gods, Mudblood," he hissed, hands on either side of her body as their rocking sped up. "Who knew… you had it… in you?"

"I didn't," she said, whimpering as he dove in with each stroke. "No… no one did."

"_I_ did," he said, lowering his face to hers. "_I_ did, Mudblood. Remember that. You're." He thrust in harder. "Mine." Even harder. "Understand?"

With his hardest thrust yet, Hermione shrieked, "Yes!" and wrapped her legs around his waist.

From then on, they could only make animalistic noises as the intensity of their coupling heightened with each sharp re-entry. She met each one with more and more enthusiasm. The feeling inside her felt so close to magic that she wanted to cry. If this was as close as she could ever get to that feeling again…

Yaxley growled. He was as close to the end as she was; he just knew it. That was probably due to one of his spells. He moved his head closer, intending to bite her neck.

Without thinking – only seeing the face getting nearer – Hermione tilted her head up and caught his lips in a quick but intense kiss. It was this small contact that caused her to clamp down on him. He was frozen as she arched up against his chest, head thrown back and eyes closed, keening in ecstasy.

His head dropped and he bit her neck in retaliation. Her hips bucked violently in reply, and he exploded into her with a grunt. He sucked hard all the way through his orgasm, not relinquishing his hold until the last spurt had ended.

Her eyes were still shut and her inner walls were still fluttering a bit. Yaxley started rocking into her again as he studied his mark. His teeth seemed to have broken the skin a bit, which made him smirk.

With a soft moan Hermione opened her eyes. She smiled blearily at him before pulling him down into a longer, less frantic kiss. He obliged her, surprised that such an action with a Mudblood could be pleasurable. In fact, the whole business had been remarkable. It seemed that these creatures could be useful.

"Well done, Granger," he murmured as soon as he had his lips back. She blinked rapidly to focus, and he watched, amused, as her expression changed to one of dawning horror. "What a good little Mudblood. I'll be," he twirled his hips, "_coming_ back often."

She dropped her legs quickly, face burning with shame, and tried to wriggle out from beneath him. But he kept her pressed against the covers, still filling her most private of places and pinning her with his stare. She had to stop fidgeting, seeing how fruitless her efforts were.

"Please get off me," she whispered. "It's starting to hurt again."

"Oh," he said in mock sympathy. "Well, now, we can't have that. It's less enjoyable if you're wincing all the time."

He finally pulled out of her, chuckling at her sigh of relief. There were red stains on her inner thighs and the bed. He would have to clean those up later. In the meantime…

"Petrificus Totalus," he said, binding her before she even noticed him reaching for his wand. Only her eyes moved as she watched him clean himself and then get dressed. "I'll be back soon, Mudblood. We wouldn't want your filth staining Purebloods' sheets, would we?"

While he was out of the room, Hermione reflected on what was apparently her new life. She couldn't believe how stupid she had been to suppose that there would be a way out of this prison. Her over-confidence had caused her to underestimate her opponent, not for the first time. Now she had no magic and was a prisoner in what had been, until this morning, the safest place in Britain. Now she knew how its previous owner had felt.

_I'm so sorry, Sirius_, she thought. _I didn't realise_.

But the more she thought about it, the worse she had it off. He could still become Padfoot, he was surrounded by company at all times, even if it was only Kreacher. The grumpy house elf was surely better than nothing at all.

Oh yes. And Hermione was now the sex slave of a Death Eater, little better than a whore. She had surrendered her body and her liberty, and for what? Her life? What good was that for anyone now? Only the man currently placing new wards around her jail. A Death Eater.

_What was I thinking_? her mind screamed.

* * *

><p>Yaxley eventually returned, looking smug. He sat down beside Hermione and non-verbally cleaned her and the bed.<p>

"I have to get back to work now," he said. "Don't worry about me. I've thought of a good cover story for my absence. Oh? You wish to have the spell removed? Very well."

"Just kill me now," she blurted out as soon as she could speak. He started to laugh. "I'm not helping anyone here."

"You're helping to relieve my tension," he said, rolling on top of her. His clothes brushed her naked skin, eliciting reactions that she didn't want to have. Not to this man. "That's good. It's _all_ you're good for."

"You've said yourself that I'm a Mudblood," she said, feeling some small satisfaction when she saw his surprise. "Why do you want _me_?"

"Because it's amusing to bring you to orgasm, knowing that you're _his_ best friend," he said, nuzzling the skin of her neck. She unwittingly shivered. "And you're a school girl. This all appeals to my darker nature."

"Y-you only have one nature."

He shook his head. "How wrong you are, my dear little Mudblood." Without warning he crushed her mouth with his, almost immediately beginning an erotic dance with her tongue.

Hermione would have given anything to say that the kiss was horrible, that he was selfish and domineering, that it was messy and painful, that it didn't evoke any kind of positive reaction in her.

By the gods, was it the opposite. It was the kind of kiss that she'd dreamed of receiving from Ron, even after seeing the way he and Lavender had snogged. Circe, this was far from 'snogging'. With each caress of his tongue, each nip of his teeth, each shared breath, the temperature in the room rose another degree. He did dominate the kiss, but – damn it! – it just felt _right_. And what it was doing to her body was something else entirely.

"So easy to affect, aren't you?" he asked when he pulled back. He knelt up so that he could finger her stiff nipples. Tears fell down her cheeks as she wondered why this was happening to _her_, why she had to have this kind of chemistry with _him_. He stroked her tears away and then tasted one of them. She turned her head, thus missing the moment he lowered his hand between her legs and began to play with her again. He was almost giddy with glee to find the renewed wetness.

"I don't know whose picture you masturbated to before, Mudblood," he said, continuing to finger her. He curled his two fingers around and stroked her sweet spot. "But I can guarantee that it will only ever be _my_ name on your lips from now on."

"Stop it!" she yelled, trying to scoot away again even as her muscles sucked his hand further in. "Stop it right now, you bas…"

"And _I_ have told you, Miss Granger," he said menacingly, "that you do not give the orders around here." His hands were now either side of her body and his face inches away from hers. "This is a Pureblood house, and you are _nothing_ but my Muggleborn prisoner and _toy_. Understand?" Hermione, terrified once again, only managed to nod. "Good."

His gaze dropped to her lips; but instead of a parting kiss he moved off the bed and over to the bedroom door. He looked back over his shoulder at her.

"I will be back tonight to explain your new life," he said. "Until then, you do not leave this room except to use the bathroom. _I will know if you do_."

"W-what about a drink?" she asked softly.

"Improvise," he replied, and then he was gone.

Hermione inwardly wished that Yaxley had finished bringing her off, because she felt horribly unfulfilled. She would have to finish the job herself.

Hands trembling, she tried to finger herself the way that he had, alternating between thrusting into her sore channel and flicking her swollen nub. But without the element of surprise it was very difficult. So she tried to focus on a picture of Ron.

It was no good. He kept morphing into the blond Death Eater who had taken her so masterfully that day.

_Ron, Ron, Ron_, her mind chanted.

_Yaxley, Yaxley, Yaxley_, her body replied. She moaned. No matter how hard she tried to resist, her control just snapped. Her hand now mindlessly following the pattern that he had established, she recalled the way his hands had fondled her breasts and the way his tongue had set burning trails along her neck. Within moments she climaxed almost as violently as before, screaming his name without realising it.

Suddenly tired, she fell asleep, blissfully unaware that Yaxley had sensed the whole thing, and was currently having to picture a naked Dolores Umbridge to calm down. Thankfully, it worked.

Perhaps now he could plan in peace.

* * *

><p><strong>Crikey! I didn't realise that the chapters would be this long. Most of this was written while my mother, sister and my sister's boyfriend were swimming, and I was guarding the bags. (I'm not a big swimmer.)<strong>

**Please review, my dears! There will be lots of lemons in this story, but then that's the point of Hermione's imprisonment. However! There shall be character stuff, plot progression and more. I've tried to write PWP, but… I just love stories so darn much! If this pairing isn't for you, you might want to stay away.**

**Anyway, this disclaimer applies to the whole story:**

**I do not own the Harry Potter franchise (I don't even have any shares in it!) and I'm making no money from this fic. So there.**


	2. The Death Eater Came Back

"The Death Eater Came Back"

Work seemed to take longer than usual, now that Yaxley had a pleasant treat awaiting him. He had had to explain his longer absence to a few people, and knew that he would probably face the Cruciatus Curse eventually for having lost Potter and Weasley. At the moment, though, it seemed like the little Mudblood would be worth it in the end. Both ends, if he was lucky.

Though what did luck have to do with it? He was a Slytherin, after all. He _made _his own luck.

He Apparated to what he now knew to be number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and no doubt the former headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Well, its members would no longer be able to enter the House of Black. No Death Eaters could enter either, as the Fidelius Charm was still intact. He had disabled some wards and put up different ones in their place. If any member of the Order – any person at all, actually – came onto the premises, he would know.

"Sensible girl," he said from the doorway. She gasped and turned around on the bed, where she had been sitting, waiting and wondering.

"You're back," she said. She immediately winced for the stupid comment.

"I won't beat around the bush," he said, unbuttoning his cloak as he walked towards her. "I have a voracious appetite when I go for too long without sex or when I've had a trying day, and your private… self-gratification earlier has been on my mind, making me _very_ uncomfortable." By now he was undoing his trousers. He noticed that she had only donned her blouse and underpants.

"You… you _felt_ that?" she said.

"And heard it." She flushed red, turning even redder as he slipped the rest of his clothes off and showed her just how uncomfortable he had been. "Maybe this time you'll scream my name while I'm inside you," he tore open the front of her shirt, "giving you the privilege of my Pureblood seed," he yanked her knickers off, "and all the while knowing that you're enjoying yourself."

Hermione cast about for something to say to distract him. "My… my clothes. And food. What do I do? You can't keep me locked in here forever!"

"Of course not," he said, yanking her closer. He lifted one leg over his shoulder as he continued to speak. "I have linked 'your' kitchen cabinets to mine. I will buy what I deem suitable for you, place it in my kitchen cupboard, and it shall appear here. It is not two-way, though." He finished sinking in, slowly enough so that she could still pay attention. He took a couple of steadying breaths. "There's no escape there. I shall occasionally eat my morning and evening meals here to keep an eye on you. I repeat," he finally withdrew, "that I will _know_," she gasped as he filled her anew, "wherever you go." He leaned over her, pushing her right leg down against her body and reaching even deeper. "You'll never escape me, Mudblood." He moved in and out quickly, prompting a squeal. "_Never_. Do you hear me?" She nodded frantically. "I asked you a question, Mudblood."

"Yes," she said, nearly in tears. "Yes."

"Good," he murmured, pulling out a bit. He thrust back in smoothly, now concentrating entirely upon the feeling. They both moaned.

* * *

><p>He had to repair her underpants and lend her his robe for dinner. There was enough food leftover for a decent enough meal, though – naturally – Hermione had to cook it. She tentatively offered to show him how to cook the pasta, but he just scoffed and instead left while he arranged some clothes for her. When she asked about any of the remaining clothes in the house he reminded her that she was unworthy of the attire of her superiors. She had had to turn away and bite her tongue, unwilling to prompt his anger again. And she especially didn't comment on the fact that she was wearing his robe, in case he removed it.<p>

When he returned, just in time for dinner, he brought one bag with him, having left the others upstairs. Hermione finally placed the last of the food down and sat opposite. Her eyes darted toward the non-descript shopping bag, but his silence was enough to halt the burning question of what he had brought.

"Dessert now, Mudblood," he said, pushing his dinner plate to the side after he finished.

"But… there isn't anything…"

"There is now. Check the third cabinet to the right."

Shivering as she padded across the floor in her bare feet for what felt like the thousandth time, she yanked open the cupboard door above her, shrinking to the side just in case. Yaxley chuckled. She turned around quickly to see him standing by the door.

"So little faith in me, Mudblood," he said.

"Tell me why I should have _any_ faith in you," she retorted. He frowned. "Oh… sorry."

"Sorry, _whom_?"

"Uh… what do I call you?"

"'Yaxley' sounded just fine before," he said, "though if you say it – rather, _scream_ it – that way each time…" his gaze travelled down her body, "then your 'services' will be required more frequently." She reddened and lowered her head. "Just get the food down, Mudblood."

"You know," she said softly as he turned to leave, "the more you say that, the less effect it has. I've heard it so often by now, especially from Draco Malfoy, that it has honestly lost pretty much all meaning for me." She tilted her chin up and looked him straight in the eye across the room. "I _am_ a Mudblood, and proud of it. So… you're just going to have to come up with something new if you want to hurt me."

He continued to look at her for some time. At last he inclined his head, and then left her alone in silence. A little confused, but definitely relieved, Hermione looked up at the cabinet. She scowled when she saw that the food was _just_ out of reach. There was no doubt in her mind that he did it deliberately. She thanked her fitness as she hoisted herself up onto the counter. Kneeling on the surface, she bent back (a bit precariously) and finally pulled out the bag of assorted fruit. It was easier to climb down, certainly, but she would have to work something out in the future to avoid catastrophe.

A quick fruit salad tossed together, Hermione was annoyed to find that there was only one small bowl left. Mrs. Weasley must have brought her own things whenever they stayed there… or Mundungus had taken more than just some jewellery.

Oh dear… she hoped that the boys were all right, wherever they were.

"Some time tonight?" she heard him call. With a sigh, she carried the serving bowl in, two forks clutched in her other hand.

"I hope that it won't bother you too much to have to share a bowl with a lowly Muggleborn, but unless you conjure up a couple of dessert bowls you'll just have to put up with it," she said, dropping one of the forks in front of him.

The fear built up once again before she could even sit down. Apologising as fervently as she could, she was hauled backwards. He held her arm in a bruising grip, a snarl on his lips as he pulled her into his lap as he sat back down. He positioned her so that she was facing him and straddling his legs. She gulped when she saw the anger in his eyes and continued to apologise. She was immediately silenced when he pushed up the robe and tore her underwear off.

"You should learn, Miss Granger," he said as he unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, "that I am _not_ a nice man." She swallowed again as he pulled himself out, already hardening quickly. "Do I have to show you?"

"N-no…"

"Too late now," he said, and – without any preparation – he impaled her swiftly. She cried out in pain and looked at him with watery eyes. He leaned forward and, to her surprise, held up a piece of rock melon from the salad. He pressed the food against her lips until she was forced to part them and accept it. Just as she swallowed it he bucked up into her. If he'd done that a second earlier she would have choked.

So it went with a piece of each of the fruits in the salad: in, swallow, thrust, rinse and repeat.

"Each time you have any of these fruits," he said, "you'll think of this." He bounced her up and down, the journey now easier as her arousal was drawn out of her. He was right, and she cursed herself for having used all the fruits provided. Now she could never think about them the same way again: apple, rock melon, grapes, pineapple, pear, peach, star fruit and honeydew melon. So many.

He was now rocking up into her with each drop. She held onto his shoulders, breathing heavily and hating him for causing this reaction in her.

Teeth clenched, Yaxley thrust upwards as hard as he could – actually rising up off the chair – and bringing her down hard. He had to endure an ear-splitting scream when his head breached her cervix. Very briefly he was trapped inside her, before gravity pulled him back out with a 'pop'. He'd never tried that before, mostly because this kind of sex wasn't enjoyed by Pureblood women and he didn't want to get a bad reputation. But he could do anything with this creature… and he would.

In all this musing he had missed the moment of Hermione's climax, triggering his own. The only thing wrong with the picture was the look in her eyes, something horrible that he decided not to analyse.

"Do not anger me again, Miss Granger," he said, tracing her lips and the drying tear tracks. "As you can see, it doesn't _entirely_ end well for you, does it?" She shook her head. "Now strip."

"W-what?"

"_Now_." He pushed her off his lap. "It's in the bag." He tilted his head towards the shopping bag as he tucked himself back in. Hermione walked over to the bag, limping a bit. She winced as she bent over and picked it up. Her eyes widened when she saw what was inside. Yaxley smirked, a bit of his good humour returning.

"You… you expect me to wear this?" she asked, her voice hoarse from screaming. He nodded.

"Wait until I go," he said, standing up. "You don't want to risk my hunger returning."

She shook her head as he walked over to her. He twirled his finger in the air and she obediently turned around. His touch sent shivers down her spine as he removed his robe carefully from around her shoulders. With her knickers torn off she was now naked. She heard him make a small sound and turned around, one arm across her breasts and her other hand covering the apex of her legs. He was studying her body with interest.

"I'll take it upstairs," she muttered, trying to encourage him to leave. He finally made eye contact with her again.

"Good night," he said.

"Good night," she replied. As soon as he had swept out of the dining room and Disapparated, Hermione returned her attention to the shopping bag.

He must have bought it at an adult shop, probably in Knockturn Alley. She took a hold of the short dress inside and pulled it out, gulping. It was a French maid's uniform, in her exact size, at least according to the label. She noticed a small feather duster and a cap in the bottom of the bag. Well, if she hadn't felt cheap before she certainly did now.

It was worse when she had to throw out the rest of the dessert. She couldn't touch it, and she swore that she would never eat fruit salad again.

* * *

><p>The least revealing clothing was a Barbara Eden genie outfit, and it was made out of light material. Hermione made a list overnight of everything that she would need for cleaning, now that she couldn't use magic. Naturally, there were no cleaning products to be found. The ache between her legs made it difficult for her to fall asleep, and when she did it was fitful at best. Nightmares of having to put on a show for other Death Eaters, of being taken to Voldemort, of Ron and Harry finding out about her 'arrangement' with Yaxley. She didn't know which frightened her more.<p>

When she woke up it took several seconds to blink the sleep from her eyes and get her bearings. She became aware of a warm hand on her right arm and looked up straight into his eyes.

"Um, hello," she said.

"Good morning, Miss Granger."

"Not 'Mudblood'?" she asked, sitting up. His hand dropped to the bedspread.

"It's tiresome," he said. "Disappointed?" She shook her head. "Good. Time for breakfast."

"Could I…" She bit her lip when he looked down at her. "Could I have some pyjamas?"

"I saw your list," he said, glancing at the bedside table. "I refuse to buy Muggle… things." He waved his hand in the air. Hermione would have laughed at his expression if she had a death wish. As it was, she shuffled around in the bed, trying to get out. She looked pointedly at the place where Yaxley was sitting.

"I can't get the covers down," she said, tugging at them gently.

"And?"

"Could you please stand up?"

He was tempted to stay there just to annoy her, but he was hungry. Ordinarily his house elf cooked for him, but Yaxley wanted to keep an eye on his captive, at least on her first morning as his play-thing. If he felt sore this morning – which he certainly did – then she must have felt like hell. He withdrew a vial from his pocket.

"Here," he said, holding it out. She looked confused. "Pain Relief."

"Oh." She uncorked it and sniffed gingerly. She half-smiled up at him and drank down the fluid before returning the vial. He stood up and watched as the potion provided her with relief. Her whole body relaxed and she even leaned back a bit. Something inside him stirred as the maid's outfit revealed more than it was supposed to. She had clearly tossed and turned in her sleep. One nipple was peeking out.

_A Mudblood_, he thought. _And if we start now I'll be late for work._

"Time for breakfast," he repeated. She nodded and climbed out of bed. He waited for the moment that she realised the clothes were askew. Sure enough, when she looked down her eyes widened and she turned red. Looking even more embarrassed, she adjusted the outfit, looking apprehensive as she saw him watching.

"W-what are we having?" she asked. He grinned slowly and she paled. "I mean, to eat! For breakfast."

"Go and check the first cupboard," he said. He admired her legs as he followed her down the stairs. When it dawned on him how uncomfortable his clothes were getting he forced himself to focus on something else; for example, his work.

He was definitely too sore for this. Still, it was an ache he would enjoy feeling for the rest of the day. She was maddening, a Mudblood, a Gryffindor and not at all his usual type. She was far too bright for her own good and was best friends with Undesirable Number One.

But that costume fit her damn well, and it was hard to concentrate, in more ways than one. It was a relief to see her disappear into the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Aside from popping in for dinner that night and the next, Hermione didn't see Yaxley again for a couple of days. He had sent things through the cupboards to her, including a lurid pink negligee and the ingredients for some harmless cleaning potions. She had already found an old cauldron and a couple of cracked stirring rods; so, with her photographic memory for textbooks, she was able to get some cleaning done.<p>

She was ashamedly relieved to be restricted to such mindless, non-nerve-wracking tasks. Much as she hated the idea of being a housewife, she liked being able to think for herself – and, more to the point, work out how she could escape. She'd received a nasty shock when she tried to leave by the front door, the windows were similarly warded, and the portraits were all singularly unhelpful. If only Phineas Nigellus Black's painting was still here, she might have been able to get word about Hogwarts, perhaps even _to_ Hogwarts.

But there was no guarantee of that, either. And with this charm that prevented her from harming herself, she couldn't even throw herself down the stairs in the hopes that, if she survived, he would have to take her to St. Mungo's… which, in retrospect, was probably more dangerous than staying at Grimmauld Place. Voldemort had no doubt taken over all of the public places; if he could take the Ministry of Magic…

"Hogwarts!" she exclaimed. It was Friday afternoon, almost evening, and she was waiting to see if Yaxley would turn up for dinner. He had already sent through enough food for two that morning, and quite a lot of it. This worried her. Was it to build up enough energy for… whatever he made her do?

But now this latest thought had struck her. While Professor Dumbledore was at Hogwarts it was the safest place to be. Without him, did they still stand a chance? The professors were all excellent in their own fields, and most of Dumbledore's Army was still there and capable of fighting. Oh, if only they'd had more stable Defence teachers!

That led her to think about Professor Snape. She gritted her teeth and breathed slowly, trying to calm down.

She jumped when Yaxley appeared. He barely looked at her while he shed his travelling cloak and robes. It was while he was working on his shirt that he noticed that she hadn't moved yet, and was just watching him.

"And I thought that you were supposed to be a know-it-all," he said, now working on the fastening of his trousers. She chewed her lower lip as she unbuttoned the Healer's lab coat and let it fall to the floor. He hadn't provided any bras as the costumes had them built in, but she would have appreciated the extra cover. The only underwear that he had provided were the wizarding equivalent of the g-string, which was actually skimpier than the Muggle version. It was utterly degrading.

"I was wondering if you could get me some real clothes?" she said softly as she removed the knickers. She glanced up at him and was ashamed to feel herself getting warmer just by looking at him. He'd only undressed as far as his shirt being open and his pants opened. As he backed her up against the wall she realised that he didn't need to undress any further.

"If you can make me forget this hellish day you may get your wish," he said, hoisting her up. She quickly wrapped her legs around his waist, swallowing as he positioned himself with one hand while the other arm was around her back, holding her against him. She whimpered as he played with her clit until she was soaked. With a smooth thrust he moved into her, inhaling through clenched teeth as the warmth engulfed him. It felt wonderful after such a long and tiring week.

Today, especially, seemed to be filled with idiots. At least he had the weekend with his new plaything, to recover for the week ahead. It was about time for the Dark Lord to call a meeting; he was surprised that he hadn't been called sooner after the debacle at the Ministry.

What was he thinking about? Whatever it was, his mind certainly wasn't on sex. Hermione gasped each time he thrust into her, the movements hard and rough, but oh so delicious at this angle. She was glad that she had fully recovered, at least physically.

"Oh, _gods_!" she yelped as pulled her down harshly. He didn't react consciously; only pushed her harder against the wall as he continued to thrust, speeding up. She threw her arms around his body and rested her head on his shoulder. Her fingernails dug into his skin and her body trembled as she reached the edge. She put a bit more force into pushing down and cried out again, this time in climax.

Yet he kept thrusting.

First that bloody Dolores Umbridge came to see him about something. She'd been keeping a gleeful eye on him ever since the Golden Trio escaped, as though she was expecting him to get a horrible punishment for letting them get away. Runcorn turned up as well, demanding sick pay so that he could recover over the weekend. Thicknesse had started to think for himself, which meant that the Imperius Curse had to be renewed before he woke up from it. Other various employees had come to him with problems, mainly to do with the stricter security system being put in place.

Each meeting ran through his mind as he pounded his frustration into the Mudblood. Not just that day, but everything that had gone wrong since she and her friends had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic. He could even imagine what the Dark Lord might do to him as punishment.

The ache had returned, along with a familiar squeezing sensation. He snapped out of his reverie and saw that Hermione was slumped against the wall, eyes almost closed and mouth slack. Her arms were beginning to droop even as she tightened around him. With his attention now on what they were doing the feelings hit him from all sides, and he exploded inside her. It took several minutes for him to get his breath back, and at first he thought that Hermione had fallen asleep. But when he moved they both hissed in pain and her eyes shot open.

"Do I want to know… what you were thinking about?" she asked weakly. If she hadn't been a Muggleborn he might have felt guilty. As it was…

"You enjoyed that even more than I did, Miss Granger," he said. "What _would_ your friends think if they saw you now?" She tilted her chin up.

"They'd be glad that I wasn't taking this lying down," she said. As soon as she realised what she'd said, her eyes grew wide. He laughed.

"That's the way to look at this, my little Mudblood," he said. He finally withdrew and let her slide down the wall. When she ended up on her knees, eye-level with his pelvis and bruises forming where he'd held her tightly, he had a wonderful idea.

"What?" she whispered, watching him get hard. She looked up to see his smug expression. "No. I can't. I beg you. I hurt too much."

"Then fix it some other way," he said, pushing his trousers further down. "Do this, and you'll get some 'proper' clothes and another dose of Pain Relief, on my honour as a wizard."

"Oh, thank you," she said, clearly relieved. He smiled as he shook his head.

"Open up, Miss Granger."

* * *

><p>"Should I feel insulted?" Yaxley asked as Hermione went through her third glass of juice at dinner. She swallowed quickly.<p>

"What do you mean?"

"You're trying to wash out the taste," he said, nodding at her empty glass. She stiffened.

"If I was going to do that I would have brushed my teeth upstairs," she said. "And, um, thank you for getting a toothbrush for me." He merely raised an eyebrow while he had another forkful of mashed potato. "My parents would have…"

Then she gasped and returned to her food. There was no way he could have missed that; she would just have to try and make him forget it somehow. Her nervousness only intensified as he continued to eat in silence. She wracked her brains and finally worked out what might distract him.

"The reason that I'm drinking so much," she said, "is that I get incredibly thirsty around that… time of the month." She blushed furiously. "It's due in the next couple of days."

"Is that so?" he said. He'd finally finished eating and was now sipping from his goblet.

"Yes. Um, I noticed that you didn't get any…"

"It would look suspicious."

"Not if you bought them at a Muggle supermarket." Yaxley frowned. "Or… or let me do it! I mean, I can't Transfigure them."

"I'll take care of it," he said, and he knocked back the rest of his drink. He eyed her from across the table. Damn it, he was sore again, and he'd bet everything he owned that her jaw was now aching, too. It was just as well that he'd brought more Pain Relief Potion. No doubt she would need some when her period came.

"Uh…" Hermione stood up and put their plates together for carrying. "Did you put anything through the cupboards for dessert?"

"Well, _you_ were going to be dessert tonight. In fact, you are. Clean the dishes and then go to the bedroom. Wait for me there."

* * *

><p><strong>No, he hasn't forgotten about Hermione's parents. He's waiting for the perfect moment to strike, that's all. (Slytherins…)<strong>

**See ya!**


	3. Natural Concerns

"Natural Concerns"

Nature, and its effect on a woman's body, meant that they had to wait another week before he could take Hermione again. And then Yaxley was finally called to Voldemort's side, to answer for the debacle at the Ministry. Somehow he doubted that he'd be up to playing with his toy for the next couple of days; a great pity considering how unreasonably often he had been craving her since the day he had taken her up against the wall, then later in bed.

"Yaxley," Voldemort said, beckoning him over. It was never a good sign to have a private audience with the Dark Lord.

"My lord," he said, kneeling before his master. "It is an honour to be chosen, above all others…"

"Is it?" The reptilian dictator leaned forward, looking into his servant's eyes. Yaxley was never so glad that he was an Occlumens. He kept a straight face, though he was understandably nervous. "I have heard that Harry Potter and his friends infiltrated the Ministry."

There was no avoiding it. "We believe so, my lord."

"And you gave chase to them, so I understand."

"Yes, my lord."

"Were you successful?"

"I would have brought them straight to you had that been the case, my lord." He sighed softly and looked down. "One of them hit me with a Repulsion Jinx, and I lost them somewhere in London. I searched the immediate vicinity, of course, but they had disappeared. I can only assume that they are together, unless they were separated during their escape."

"And you did not think it important enough to report to me immediately?" Voldemort asked, standing. Nagini slithered out from behind the large chair. Yaxley repressed a shudder.

"Forgive me, my lord, but I did not deem it necessary to inform you of failure so soon. I would have told you at the next meeting. I found no trace of Potter and his accomplices, though I searched the area thoroughly."

"So that is why you were missing from the Ministry?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Hmm." Yaxley waited as calmly as he could while Voldemort mused. If he died, the spells that he had cast on the Mudblood would disappear and she could escape. Of course, it was doubtful that he would be killed over this.

He was more likely to die if the Dark Lord discovered that he was keeping Hermione Granger at the former headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, out of his reach.

* * *

><p>The house elf was all very well, but Yaxley refused to have it help him get clean. It could feed him potions, and in fact did. But there was one person he wanted to see right now.<p>

"What happened?" Hermione asked when she noticed him leaning against the wall in the hallway. He trembled every few seconds, and an occasional wince crossed his face. She hurried forward to support him when his legs looked ready to give out.

"That's what I get for losing your friends," he said. "Now help me to the bathroom."

"O-of course."

It took several minutes to get upstairs and into the bathroom. Then she (blushingly) had to assist him out of his clothes while avoiding his smug look. Lastly she helped him over to the shower stall and turned on the water.

"You strip, too," he said. "Unless you want your clothes to get wet."

She desperately wanted to disobey, but he hadn't turned her in, even when he had the chance. Even under torture. Otherwise she would be gone by now, and he wouldn't be in such bad shape. She really owed it to him, didn't she?

Once she was also undressed she joined him under the falling water. She had to reach past him to get the shower gel, forcing their naked bodies to brush against one another. She shivered and pulled back, gel in hand.

"Well?" he whispered. She looked into his eyes, his face much closer than she had anticipated. She gulped.

"You want me to…"

"I _need_ you to," he said, shutting his eyes as he leaned his head back against the wall. She uncapped the bottle, squeezed some of the gel onto her left hand and began to lather up his chest. He smiled and pressed forward, eyes still closed, as she continued to wash off the blood, sweat and dust.

"What happened?" she asked as she rubbed lower.

"Cruciatus Curse, among other things. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about."

"My… my blood is the same colour," she said, so soft that he could barely hear it.

"What?"

"My blood is the same colour as yours." She raised her eyes to his once more and saw that they were open – and narrowed.

"I have spilt enough Muggle blood to know that," he said. "Now finish your job."

After that it was even more embarrassing. By the end he was hard again, and Hermione couldn't help feeling a tingle of anticipation herself.

The bottle fell from her hand as he slammed her against the wall and pushed her legs apart. Their eyes never left each other as he bent low enough to position himself and then thrust. She gasped and shut her eyes, resting her head against the wall the same way he had earlier. Her hands grasped his shoulders as she moved against the tiles. Grabbing her under the legs, he hoisted her up higher, the water causing her to sink lower and allow him deeper penetration.

He didn't miss her second gasp as he pulled her closer, hitting all sorts of pleasurable spots and making her shake as her orgasm approached. When it hit her she shrieked, hands and feet trying to gain purchase on his slippery body. He shuddered and joined her in climax, spilling out of her as they kept moving until she went limp and he let her slide to a standing position.

"That's better," he said, resting beside her. He reached across and turned off the water, before taking in her wet body. She looked down in shame at her usual reaction to him, taking in their joint fluids leaking down between her legs. Then a horrifying thought occurred to her.

"Oh my god," she said, and her head shot up.

"What is it?" Yaxley asked, raising an eyebrow at her terrified expression. She opened and closed her mouth several times before she was able to speak.

"W-we aren't using any protection!" she said. "Nothing!"

"And?"

"Don't that _worry _you?"

"Of course not." He pushed away from the wall. "I am clean – naturally – and you were a virgin when I took you. Therefore we cannot pass anything on to the other."

"I'm not talking about that," she said, glaring at him for his casual tone. "We're doing nothing to avoid pregnancy. I mean, I know I'm not pregnant, or at least I _wasn't_…"

"Severus has referred to you as a know-it-all," he said, stepping out of the shower and wandlessly Summoning a towel from the rail. "I'm beginning to think that he was wrong in his assessment."

"What do you mean?" she asked, accepting a second towel from him and wrapping it around herself.

"A witch doesn't fall pregnant unless she actually loves the wizard she's with. I believe that it applies even to Muggleborns."

"Harry's proof of that," she said, amused and relieved. "Thank goodness. I just can't believe that I didn't think of it before."

"They really should have sexual education classes at Hogwarts," Yaxley said, rolling his eyes. "I'll suggest it to Severus."

"At least it means that the parents must truly be in love." She smiled wistfully as she dried her feet. "That's lovely. It's… it's spiritual."

"Nothing to do with that," he said, already getting into his trousers. "It's the magic in us. It aids the fertility with its power, and that's it."

"But what about arranged marriages?" she asked, hanging up the towel. "I mean, there _are_ arranged marriages in the wizarding world, aren't there?"

"Fewer now," he said. "That comes with the changing times. People like the Weasleys, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, are fortunate enough to be in love, so they are able to have children without resorting to the old method. The Lestranges are not in love, and never have been, but they never wanted children anyway. If they did, then a Love Potion would have to be employed to aid conception."

"Oh. Have you never been in love?"

"Romance has no place in my life," he said, sneering. "And there are not enough Pureblood witches to go around."

"Maybe you shouldn't be so picky," she muttered, passing him to go downstairs and start making dinner. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"What. Did. You. Say?"

"I-I… I just said that… maybe you should marry someone who _isn't_ Pureblood," she said, wondering why they were having such a bizarre conversation, and wondering what was making her feel so brave (or foolish). "Reduce the chances of producing Squibs because… because of all the, um," she swallowed, "in-breeding." She kept avoiding eye contact. "Professor Burbage wrote an article about it…"

"And that got her killed," he said, shoving her against the wall. "Keep your opinions to yourself, Mudblood. Who did you have in mind as my bride? _You_?"

"Of course not," she said, her gut clenching and making her feel ill. "Do you really think that I'd marry a Death Eater?" She shook her head. "Don't flatter yourself. I was just… hell, I don't know what I meant. I just hate the thought of all that magic being wasted when it should be spread around." She turned thoughtful, as though she was contemplating an essay. "I can understand why it's dangerous for Muggles to know about magic. But there's so much that the wizarding world can learn from the Muggle one. They've done so much to achieve things that only magic would have done a couple of centuries ago, if that." She had started to walk downstairs without realising, Yaxley following her. "Phones – and now mobile phones – are actually much easier to use than fireplaces and floo powder. Sure, Muggles can't Apparate, but they get by just fine in other ways. And television and films… though at least the wizarding world _does_ have radio…"

"Miss Granger," he said, moving in front of her. "You would do well to stop voicing such thoughts. They are dangerous, especially for a girl in your position. I will not be around forever, and when your friends are defeated you will need to curb your tongue if you wish to survive. Even then, I doubt you shall live very long in that situation." He stroked her face before grabbing her hair and tugging hard. She winced and inhaled through her teeth. "So you'd do well just to keep me happy. Understood?"

She nodded, trying not to cry from the pain. "Yes, sir," she whispered.

"Good girl." He went back to stroking her cheek. "Very good girl."

* * *

><p>Hermione still pushed the issue, but only gently, and only because she was curious.<p>

"When you say that you would marry a Pureblood witch," she said, glancing up from her food, "does that include… blood traitors?"

"Absolutely not, unless they returned to the old ways," Yaxley said. "I would never want any children of mine to be tainted by the wrong sort of people."

"So you would want more than one child?" she asked, genuinely interested. After all, this was the man who was using her for sex.

"I would no doubt have to," he said, swirling his drink in its goblet. "Nearly every first child in the Yaxley line is a female, so to continue the family name a boy must then be produced. That happened with my parents." He took a drink while Hermione processed this.

"Were your parents in love?"

"No."

"So did your mother have to take a Love Potion both times?"

"Yes." He looked at her over the rim of his goblet. "If you are so interested in Pureblood traditions why have you never read about them?"

"I've never had reason to," she said, pushing her plate aside.

"And you do now?" he asked.

"I have no schoolwork to do," she said. A lump formed in her throat at the thought. "That doesn't mean that I don't want to learn."

"Hmm." He watched as she took their plates into the kitchen. He hadn't had time to send food through the cupboards, which meant no dessert that night. At least he'd had some relief now, and that would probably have to sustain him the next couple of days.

What he wanted to know was why he felt as though he could tell her so much about his personal life. It was as she washed the dishes that it occurred to him. She couldn't leave and no one could enter except for him. He was able to tell her whatever he wanted and she couldn't tell anyone.

However, he would have to stop revealing such personal information. It was uncharacteristic of him to be open.

* * *

><p>He was standing by the fireplace in the living room when she joined him. He looked her up and down and brought out his wand. She drew back warily and he chuckled.<p>

"Your hair is still wet," he said, and he cast a Drying Spell over it. She thanked him quietly. "You're welcome. I will bring you some new clothes when I next visit."

"Thank you!" she exclaimed. "I'd been wondering, but…"

"I didn't have any reason to come until this evening," he said. "And then I was in no fit state to…"

"Of course," she said, lowering her head, unable to hide her pleased smile. "I'm just surprised that you remembered them."

"Difficult not to, when just looking at you right now is making it _very_ hard for me," he said, still eyeing her legs in the short skirt. "For my own health – and yours – I think it best if you're a bit more… covered." Hermione blushed. "I can't keep providing Pain Relief Potion because I get carried away."

"I suppose not," she said. "And you're not the only one who gets carried away."

"How very true." He began to stroke her arm. She shivered.

"Uh, so you have a sister?" she asked. He looked confused. "Well, you said that your mother had to take a second potion because the first born in your family was female."

"I haven't had a sister for a long time," he said. No longer in the mood, he went and sat on the couch. She perched beside him.

"What happened to her?"

"She did a very foolish thing," he said, staring at the fire. "Lysandra – named after our great-aunt – married a Muggle."

She gasped. "She was killed for _that_?"

"Who said that she was killed?" he asked, frowning at her. "We disapproved, but whatever you may think, a life is still a life, and there is always the possibility that she may see her foolishness, and overcome it. There… there _was_."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking away. "Did something dreadful happen?"

"As far as I know, she is still with him, and their family," he said. "I believe they live somewhere in Europe."

"You mean you don't know?"

"I do not _know_ because I do not _care_," he said. "All she did to notify any of us was scribble some nearly unintelligible note with an address should we need to find her, and left it on my bedside table. Our parents died of the shame within a few months of her elopement."

"Wow," she said. "Talk about extreme emotions. Oh. Uh, sorry."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" he asked.

"No; only my parents, and they…" Her eyes widened and she went to stand. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"I _am_ curious, Miss Granger," he said, studying her fearful expression. "Where are your parents? Their house was strangely… empty."

Tears sprang to her eyes and she smiled. "Thank Merlin."

"Where _are_ they, Hermione?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me the truth."

"I am."

"Where are they…"

"I don't know!" she shouted. "I… I d-don't know." Her head dropped to his chest as she clung to him. "I just don't know. You have to believe me."

"Why wouldn't you know where your own parents are?" he asked, trying not to feel disgust as she wept into his robes.

"Why wouldn't you know where your own _sister_ is?" she shot back. He stiffened.

"Watch your tongue, Mudblood," he said, tugging her head back to look her in the eye. "You're on thin ice, as always. Now answer my question."

She swallowed hard, his eyes boring into hers. "I… erased their memories," she said. He arched an eyebrow. "Well, I modified them. They don't remember me. My… my own parents don't remember me." Blinking back more tears, she pressed her face against his chest again. "So you see, I don't know where they are." She laughed quietly. "I may be a Mudblood to you, but you shouldn't have underestimated me, you and Lord Vol…"

He clapped a hand over her mouth. "Hush, you fool," he said. "The Dark Lord's name is taboo. If you say it, then the Snatchers can find you." He took his hand away so that she could speak.

"The wards must stop them," she said. "When Harry, Ron and I were staying here, we saw them waiting outside, and we used to say 'Vol'… I mean, the taboo word."

"Well, I don't want any extra attention drawn to this place," he said. "Or one of these days I might just Obliviate you, remove the wards, and leave you to your fate." He grinned nastily. "So just bear in mind that thin ice."

She nodded, her mind whirring. Did Harry and Ron know? What if one of them said the taboo word? They'd be caught! Oh, gods…

"I hope someone tells them," she murmured, relaxing into his arms. Suddenly tired, she fell asleep, surrounded by the warmth of the fireplace and his body.

* * *

><p>A few days later Hermione had finished cleaning early and lingered in the Black family library. She knew that Sirius had told her not to read any of the books, just in case some of them were cursed, especially against non-Purebloods.<p>

But there was a charm on her to prevent her from self-harming. Following that logic, the books couldn't harm her if she was choosing to read them.

With a small smile she studied the spines. There were so many interesting books to choose from, even though they were nearly all on Dark Magic.

She reached up to pull one down.

* * *

><p>It was a fairly boring day at the Ministry of Magic, even for the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There were no trials today, nothing but paperwork. That was what came of it being the end of the week, especially since he had worked hard to make up for any work missed, even outside of office hours while he recovered from his punishment. Now he was back at full health – thank the gods for potions and Severus Snape – and he was nearly done for the day.<p>

That was when Yaxley felt it; a painful jolt in his chest, which swiftly spread over the rest of his body. Was this from the Dark Lord?

But then it faded, and he was able to think clearly. He stared unseeingly at his broken quill. Something had happened to her. His little captive at Grimmauld Place.

He moved quickly, casting a Locking Charm on his door and then Apparating out of his office, a privilege granted only to heads of departments.

When he appeared at her side his blood ran cold. She was unconscious and there were cuts all over her face and torso, the blood seeping through her genie outfit. He Levitated her body and took her through to the master bedroom. As soon as she was resting on top of the covers he undressed her to examine the damage. Most of the cuts seemed superficial, but others would require Essence of Dittany, and he didn't know what internal damage she may have sustained. None of his wards were supposed to do this, and he had felt no intruders.

"What in Hades name happened?" he said, checking the back of her head. A small bump seemed to be forming, but that was also fixable. All most of it would take was a few flicks of a wand. There were just so _many_ injuries.

* * *

><p>When Hermione awoke she felt a bit sore, but warm. She looked around, confused, and saw Yaxley enter. His expression darkened.<p>

"How did I get here?" she asked, her voice hoarse. He handed her a glass of water.

"I brought you, of course," he said.

"Why?"

"You were dying."

"W-what?" she asked, paling. "I can't remember…"

"Were you playing with the books in the library?"

"I only reached up for one," she said. "I think… yes, I touched it. But after that, my mind is just," she waved her hand, "blank. I wanted something to read."

"You stupid girl!" he shouted. "You could have bled out. Do you honestly have a death wish?"

Oh, how she wished to say 'yes'. How she wished to say that anything was better than being a prisoner in a Pureblood house. But she remembered his warnings to behave herself and she bit her tongue, determined to think before she spoke.

"I didn't think that anything would happen," she said softly. "Why did you save me?"

"Don't question me, Miss Granger," he said, towering over her. "You should be questioning your sanity, your judgement, your _carelessness_."

"Yes, sir," she said, looking down at her hands. He'd drawn the covers over her, and must have put her in pyjamas. Lovely, warm pyjamas, in a dark blue. She smiled up at him. "These are very nice. Where did you get them? They're so comfortable."

He looked away. "Those ones were my former sister's. I decided that the lesser of two evils was to dress you in the second-hand clothes of a blood traitor, rather than buying new Muggle things. As I said, I cannot risk purchasing women's garments from wizarding shops, and I do not have the time – nor the inclination – to perform multiple Transfigurations simply for your benefit." Hermione nodded.

"Thank you for taking care of me," she said.

"There's Blood-Replenishing Potion, Pain Relief Potion, and some others that you doubtless recognise," he said, pointing to the bedside table. "Take them when you need to. I went to a lot of trouble raiding St. Mungo's."

"Yes, sir."

"And now I have to go and finish my work. I'll be back later."

She yawned and nodded, and nestled under the covers. He shut the door quietly and headed downstairs.

It was a nasty shock when a house elf appeared in front of him.

"Who are you?" he barked. The elf squeaked and whirled around.

"Dobby, sir," he said, fiddling with his pillow case. "Dobby was sent to find out if Harry Potter's friend is all right."

Yaxley smiled slyly. "She's recovering," he said. "We've been a bit busy this afternoon. She's in our bed at the moment."

"Y-your…"

"The bed that she and I share," he said, crossing his arms as he leant against the wall and stared down at the house elf. "Grimmauld Place is under new management."

"Oh," Dobby said, clearly struggling for something to say. "Um…"

"Hermione is in no fit state to travel," he continued. "Now go. Go and tell them that she is alive, and that she's keeping me entertained. She enjoys entertaining me as well." He smirked. "Why do you think she's so tired?"

Dobby was wide-eyed, and seemed reluctant to go. But he disappeared with a yelp when Yaxley sent a Stinging Hex his way.

Now satisfied, he returned to work.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sure that there will be complaints that he seems out-of-character at times, but he's also, in a way, lulling her into a false sense of security. No doubt he also feels that his decision to keep her as a prisoner was a bad one, and is confused about his sudden change in routine. I don't know. I'm not a psychiatrist; just a writer. ('Just'?)<strong>

**I suppose you could say that things get weirder from here on in. Who knows? You'll just have to wait and see (and judge).**

**Ciao, m'dears!**


	4. Things Get Stranger

"Things Get Stranger"

Twinges of pain woke Hermione from a strange dream, one which she immediately forgot. She downed a vial of potion and then struggled to get out of bed. It had been awhile since she was in long pyjamas, and the sleeves and legs got a bit tangled in the covers, or at least it seemed that way. But she was soon standing, and noticed a piece of paper on a chair, on top of some actual, honest-to-goodness clothes. She looked out the window to see light peeking over the horizon. Was it sunrise or sunset? How long had she slept for?

Shaking her head, she turned to the note. There was no introduction, as though he still didn't know what to call her.

_To prevent you from destroying the entire building, I have begun to ascertain which books are dangerous and which are safe. I will continue tomorrow. Below is a list of the ones that I have deemed harmless so far. They are on the side of the library where I found you._

_When you are feeling well again, you will have to see to the blood stains on the floor._

_-Yaxley._

She grimaced, but inwardly acknowledged the gesture. It was possible that he actually wrote down the titles of books that could hurt her, but to what end? He would be rewarded if he took her to You-Know-Who, more so than if he killed her without making real use of her. For example, as a trap for Harry. Harry, who had had to leave her alone with a Death Eater, likely unaware of her actual circumstances. Harry, whose godfather had died after an image of him was used as bait.

To think that she had been so protective of house elves, only for it to turn out that Kreacher had betrayed Sirius.

"Kreacher," she whispered, her eyes growing wide. "Or… or any house elf!"

Was it possible that a house elf could get through? Yaxley wouldn't necessarily think of warding against them, being a Pureblood.

There was a clatter downstairs, and she hurried out, hoping that Kreacher might have actually heard her. Not that he would ever talk to her. But if he was here, then it meant that elves _could_ get through, and…

It was Yaxley, swearing as he searched the cupboards, moving things around. He saw her out of the corner of his eye.

"Good. You're up. I almost brought my house elf to make breakfast for us, but I decided to ensure that none of them could get in."

"What…"

"An elf named Dobby turned up yesterday, sent by your friends," he said as she walked over to him. She stopped in her tracks.

"Dobby was here?" she asked, disbelieving.

"Yes." He smirked. "I told him to tell your friends that you're alive and acting as my whore. I'm sure they will be pleased to hear that."

Hermione felt choked up. "So… he left?"

"He did, and I made sure that that sort of thing cannot happen again."

She blinked back tears and walked past him to open the cupboard connected to his kitchen. The food was, again, too far back. She hated having to reach for it.

"Damn thing," she muttered, swallowing the lump in her throat and trying not to think of Harry's and Ron's reactions to whatever Dobby told them. She jumped when Yaxley pressed up against her and nuzzled her ear.

"I even told him that you _love_ this," he said, his breath sending shivers down her spine. He grabbed onto her hips and then spun her around to face him. She whimpered as he untied her pyjama pants and pushed them down, along with the knickers that he'd felt compelled to put on her. Then he shoved his robes aside, unbuckled his trousers and lifted her onto the counter. It was at a most convenient level.

Despite her reactions, Hermione was barely damp, no doubt due to his words. Well, he knew one thing that would fix it.

He bent over as he trailed one finger up her slit. She gasped and held onto his arms. The look in his dark eyes and his twisted smile were adding to her discomfort, making her squirm even as he lowered his face.

"Oh my gods!" she yelped as his tongue made contact with her flesh. She tried to picture her friends, tried to imagine what they would think if they saw this…

But then one of his fingers found something to play with, and a thumb joined in. He squeezed her nub gently, causing her to buck against his face. She continued to cry out as he dipped his tongue inside, hands stroking her folds and batting her clit, and his mouth suckling her. She was nearly blind with pleasure. All it took was a gentle bite and she climaxed. Lost in the sensation, she missed the moment that he pulled her off the bench-top and onto him. She very soon realised, however, that she was clenching around something much bigger and harder than a tongue.

"You _do_ enjoy this," he hissed, thrusting into her against the kitchen cabinets. She began to paw at his chest, her head dropping back and her pelvis arching up to meet his, their bodies moving to a natural rhythm, a drum that beat only for them.

Slowly, she built up to a second fall, one which struck her moments after his own orgasm hit, causing their arousal to spill out onto the kitchen floor when he finally withdrew. They were breathing heavily, staring at each other. Finally, sick of her gaze being fixated on him, Yaxley cast a few cleaning spells and then tucked himself into his trousers. He moved forward, though, and pressed against her.

"Here," he said, taking the food from the high cupboard and placing it on the counter behind her. "Let me know when you're done."

Numb, she watched him leave the room, and then set about making breakfast.

* * *

><p>When Yaxley returned that evening, he checked the library. The floor was free from blood, and he noticed at least two books missing from the shelves, possibly more. He nodded and went to the bedroom. She was sitting by the window, reading one of the books with deep fascination. Clearly she hadn't noticed that he was later than usual, due to a work dinner that he had had to attend. Had she eaten at all since he left her that morning?<p>

"Satisfied now?" he asked. She nearly dropped the book.

"Oh! Um, yes, I am. Thank you."

"It's the weekend," he said, moving forward. She took the hint and closed the book, sliding his note between the pages to act as a bookmark. "Barring interruptions, we have the whole weekend to make up for the last fortnight of inactivity." He removed his robes as he spoke. "Are you looking forward to it?"

She bit her lower lip, unsure how to answer. He cocked his head.

"Whatever you do, you must never lie to me, Miss Granger," he said. "I can tell."

"Are you an Occlumens?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Wow. I'll… bear that in mind."

"The thoughts of Mudbloods do not interest me," he said, kicking his shoes to the side as she moved to the bed, leaving the books behind. "I will only ever use my skills if I deem it necessary to my interests."

"Let me guess; you were in Slytherin," she said, lying down as soon as she was unclothed.

His eyes trailed down her body, enjoying the way that it made her squirm. Instead of speaking, he rolled on top of her body. She parted her legs reluctantly. His words from that morning haunted her. Had he really told Dobby all that? And, more to the point, had Dobby repeated his words? Did her friends now know that she was prostituting herself to stay alive, or would they refuse to believe such a thing?

As Yaxley began to stroke her folds, however, she found herself caring less and less about her rather morbid thoughts. Once she was wet enough, he slid home, so smooth and so fulfilling that it sent her mind into meltdown. Each thrust caused her to shift against the bed; and his body was something to take notice of, when she was in a less fevered state of mind. For a man in his forties (she guessed) he was in remarkably good shape. The only real flaw that she could find was that tattoo on his left arm, and she was getting better at ignoring it.

"Oh, _hell_," she said weakly as he continued to pump in and out. His chest was pressed to hers, and the heat and the friction against her nipples was making her tremble with approaching climax. Then he touched her clit again. In a dizzying flash of light she came, howling and arching, and then blacking out.

What was probably less than a minute later, she came to, and flushed extra hard when she saw the Death Eater's amused expression.

"I'm really quite flattered," he said, rocking in and out of her, her muscles still fluttering around him. He raised an eyebrow. "But I'd prefer that we keeping going, hmm?"

She nodded, wishing that she'd had something to eat. The book had just been so _interesting_, that she…

And then he kissed her.

All other movement stopped as they savoured the feeling. Slowly, their lips began to move together, parting, making way for their tongues to meet. Between harsh breaths, they continued to devour each other as his hips moved faster. One of his arms wound around her lower back, pulling her closer to him as he drove in repeatedly; the other arm went around her back and neck, forcing her to keep kissing him, not that she wanted to stop. She never wanted to stop. She wanted this feeling of magic to keep going forever.

He swore into her mouth as he tumbled over the edge. Their entanglement grew more frantic as she followed him into ecstasy's clutches.

This time, she barely managed to stay awake, even as he finally pulled out and fell onto the mattress beside her. Neither could speak for several minutes.

* * *

><p>There wasn't much to be said after that, truth be told. At least, not about that incident.<p>

Kisses, however, began to steal into their activities, even outside of the intimate atmosphere of the bedroom. That first day had seemed like some exception to the rule; now it was a regular occurrence.

Not just that, but Hermione was able to discuss with him the things that she read. By the Monday morning he had worked out which books were not cursed, opening up a whole new world for the insatiable bookworm. Over meals they would talk about certain spells or potions, even though he tried to put a stop to her questions at first. But she was persistent, and eventually he had caved just to shut her up. That, unfortunately for him, simply made her feel free to chatter.

Talk would sometimes turn to family life. He was slightly impressed when he thought that dentistry was some kind of approved Muggle torture; but when she explained that it was to improve dental health, he lost interest. It didn't stop her from explaining some of the intricacies, so much so that he threatened to give her a real reason to see a dentist.

After that, she restricted herself to describing other Muggle professions, inventions and the like. To avoid headaches, he allowed her to waffle on, before taking her especially hard in the bedroom – or wherever he chose.

And for one week out of the month, talking to her was the closest he got to any action, and indulging her in this was usually the best way to stop her from getting angry or emotional. Even these times were admittedly more interesting than being at home, where the only other living being was a house elf.

It almost made him wish that he was married, so that he could have avoided this whole mess in the first place.

* * *

><p>Two months passed in this way. Things took a turn when there was an incident of a Muggle accidentally harming themselves with a wand that they had found. The Muggle, and all witnesses to the incident, had been dealt with.<p>

"I know someone who can identify this," he said, studying the wand. He tapped it against his palm and looked up at Runcorn. "You'll know where to find me if anything comes up, won't you, Albert?"

"I will," he said, still sore over the incident in September. "Sir."

Yaxley Apparated to Malfoy Manor from his office. When he got there, Narcissa showed him to the cellar, with Pettigrew covering him from the foot of the stairs.

"Ollivander," Yaxley said, approaching him. He held out the wand. "To whom did this belong?"

He heard a gasp from the corner. Ollivander studied the piece of wood.

"It's one of mine," he said, stroking it. "Vine, dragon heartstring core, ten and three-quarter inches." He looked up, sadness in his eyes. "It belongs to Hermione Granger."

"I knew it," the dark boy whispered. "I recognised it."

"Correction," Yaxley said, smirking to hide his surprise. "It _belonged_ to Hermione Granger."

The human inhabitants of the cellar looked at each other in horror, and then back to the blond Death Eater. He chuckled as he walked to the doorway.

"Is Hermione dead?" the boy asked.

"I believe she _wishes_ that this was the case," Yaxley said, turning his head slightly. "But her body is very much alive, I can assure you."

With that, he left them, fingering Hermione's wand as he joined Narcissa and Lucius, Pettigrew scurrying behind them noisily.

How interesting that it should be brought to him…

"The Dark Lord will be pleased to hear that the Mudblood is wandless," Lucius said. He was looking worse for wear, but the news had obviously cheered him up.

"You can tell him if you like," Yaxley said, twirling the bit of wood. "I must take this with me while I make out a report, as it is evidence. But the wand-maker will confirm it, and it was also identified by her classmate down there."

Just then, Pettigrew swore and began to pat his pockets. Yaxley rolled his eyes and bid his adieu, flooing back to the Ministry.

He missed the grand escape by a matter of seconds. Amongst the new flurry of activity, Hermione's wand was forgotten by everyone… except him.

* * *

><p>Christmas fast approached. The paperwork about Hermione's wand had been lost amid the excitement over Ollivander, Dean Thomas and Griphook's escape. The prospect of the brains of the Golden Trio having no wand did little to enliven the Dark Lord. There were signs of his confidence increasing, but they were being stunted by the loss of the three prisoners. Five days before Christmas there was a mild coup in the kidnapping of Luna Lovegood. Hermione knew nothing of any of this, naturally, and Yaxley certainly wasn't going to tell her.<p>

Christmas morning he appeared at Grimmauld Place. Hermione was muttering to herself as she tried to reach something in the cupboard. He sighed and reached past her, fetching the last things for their Christmas lunch. Most of it was pre-cooked by his house elf, and only needed to be reheated. Fortunately, the elf knew better than to ask questions.

"Merry Christmas," he said, lowering the last item – a flask of Firewhiskey – to the bench-top.

"Merry Christmas," she mumbled, and she shut the cupboard door loudly. "I'll let you know when I'm done in here." He backed up to give her room.

"What's wrong?" he asked, knowing perfectly well what she would say.

"What's wrong? _What's wrong_? This is a time for family and friends, not for… whatever we are." Her hands shook as she opened the cutlery drawer and began to take things out. "I'm a prisoner, you're my jailer, and I don't even know how my friends are. I don't know _where_ they are! My parents don't know me, so I suppose they won't be upset at all." She rested her hands briefly, her head falling forward. "It just won't be Christmas without my parents, or my friends, or _anyone_ who isn't trying to get rid of people like me." She sighed and blindly reached for a carving knife in the drawer. "Aargh!"

He leapt forward and grabbed her wrist. Blood was pouring from a deep cut on her left palm.

"Sit down," he said, pulling her over to a table and chair. Once she was seated he Summoned Dittany from the cupboard upstairs. He still kept some in the house just in case there was another accident. As soon as it arrived he began to apply it to the cut until it was healed. Then it was just a matter of cleaning the wound.

"Not even a scar," she said, stroking it. She smiled up at him. "Thank you."

"Does it hurt?"

"Only a little. You healed it well."

"Nothing to it. The pain will go eventually. There isn't much to do aside from setting the table and pouring the drinks, as the cooking is done."

"I noticed that. Did you do it?"

He gave her a look that said, 'Don't be ridiculous'. Wisely, she shut up and got on with the preparation… _after_ the drawer and its contents were Scourgified.

* * *

><p>After lunch they went into the living room, where Hermione had already set up the tree and some of the decorations they used when Sirius was alive. She tried to cheer herself up by thinking about all the lonely Christmases that he would have suffered in Azkaban, but it only distressed her.<p>

"The Yule season holds far more significance for wizards and witches than it does for most Muggles," Yaxley said, reclining in an armchair. Hermione sat by the fire, staring into the flames. "It is often used to mark certain passages, similar to a wizard's coming-of-age – which, of course, is valued more highly than a witch's coming-of-age."

Hermione snorted. "Of course."

"So, despite your unfortunate heritage, I brought you something."

"Out of the goodness of your heart?" she asked. He frowned. "Sorry. I just wasn't expecting anything."

"Do not expect an acknowledgement of your birthday," he said, handing over a long, thin package.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to calm down. It couldn't really be a wand, could it? She ripped the paper open anyway, and found…

"Oh my god," she whispered, stroking the wood reverently. Tears began to form. "Is it really…"

"You cannot perform magic with it," he said, "and in the eyes of Dolores Umbridge you stole it."

"I never…"

"I know," he said, and he rolled his eyes. "Believe me, Ollivander kept thorough records of all transactions. We have found very few stolen wands. She forgets that a wand is not a person's magic, merely a way of channelling it."

"Except that I can't," she said, unable to tear her eyes away from her wand. "But it's back in my hands." She finally looked up at him. "Where was it?"

"Somewhere in London. It was brought to me after a Muggle nearly killed himself playing with it."

"How did he manage that?"

"I was not given the details," he said. "Ollivander identified this, which is why I had to fill out paperwork."

"Is he all right? Where is he? And what about Ron and Harry?" she asked, kneeling closer to him, still clutching her wand.

"So many questions, Miss Granger," he said, shaking his head. "Do you really suppose that I would tell you anything?"

She slumped. "No." He studied her for several moments.

"As I have been spending so much time here, I thought that I would keep my radio in this room, for the times when I'm relaxing while you cook or clean. You may listen to it while I am out, if you wish. Perhaps that will curb your questions?"

"That would be wonderful!" she said, eyes lighting up. "I… I suppose that it's too much to ask for a copy of _The Daily Prophet_?"

"Yes, it is," he said. She blushed.

"But I haven't got anything for you," she said.

"I wouldn't say that," he said. His gaze burned a trail down her body. "Lie down."

"Here?" she asked. He raised his wand and Vanished both of their clothes. "You _do_ mean here."

"Yes, Miss Granger," he said, forcing her to lie down beside the fireplace as he crawled over her body. "And I mean now."

She couldn't help it; she was already wet. It was the heat, it was his gaze, it was the way his hands skimmed over her skin so lightly, barely touching it, before shoving her legs open with contrasting roughness. He loomed over her, observing the way that her hair seemed to have golden highlights by the light of the flickering fire, and the way her skin glowed. He lowered his head and took her right nipple into his mouth.

Hermione hissed as her body arched. His right hand began to fondle her other breast, gently squeezing the flesh. That familiar tingle started between her legs, and her hips gravitated upwards to brush against his erection. He moaned briefly, and then switched breasts. Soon she was just about dripping onto the carpet.

"You lucky little Mudblood," he said, lining himself up. "Two wands in one day." She cried out as he thrust in, not even registering the insult. It was all about the hardness now lodged deep in her centre.

"More," she whimpered, pressing against him. He placed his hands on either side of her body, braced himself, and then began to thrust. Her arms immediately went around his back, just as her legs wound around his waist. All thoughts of friends and family and Christmastime flew out of her mind.

Just as they were approaching the end, Yaxley rolled over so that Hermione was on top. She looked down at him, confused, even when he pushed her into a sitting position.

"Isn't this your gift to me?" he asked. She nodded slowly. "Then ride me."

She managed to lift herself up and drop back down, but nothing really happened. So she leaned over him; but, instead of touching the floor, she held onto his upper arms, using them as support and unwittingly assuming a dominant position. He scowled, but before he could comment she raised her hips and lowered them again. At this angle, the sensations nearly made her eyes pop out of her head, and her insides clenched. He groaned and just let his head fall back to the floor.

Up and down, up and down. It lasted forever, but forever just wasn't enough. Eventually, she gasped out his name – "Yaxley!" – and drenched him in her arousal as she came. It triggered his own climax, and he swore as she milked him of every drop of seed.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>You're lucky to get this chapter. I ended up in hospital today after I had my first epileptic seizure in seven years. Fortunately I was sent home a bit after three.<strong>

**Now, I was going to have them getting a bit tipsy on the Firewhiskey, which they probably would towards nightfall, but it just didn't seem to fit into the story, so you can let your imaginations run away with them, m'kay?**

**Now some very interesting stuff will be happening next chapter, so I'll see you there. (I hope.)**


	5. A Change

"A Change"

Hermione valued her life too highly to 'play' with any of the books in the library that Yaxley had deemed harmful. She doubted that any of them could have helped her escape anyway, not matter how much she wished for a way out. Of course, it would then be a matter of finding her friends, but it couldn't be that hard for the smartest witch of her age.

There was a bittersweet feeling when it came to having her wand back: yes, it _was_ back, but she couldn't perform magic with it. She didn't even get a spark of feeling. Nothing close to what she felt in his arms, her inner walls clenching and unclenching around his…

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, she placed her wand back under her pillow and got up for the day. She had become accustomed to rising early enough to have breakfast waiting by the time Yaxley arrived, if he bothered to visit. He was doing more so lately, she had to admit. It was nice to have the company, even though he was a constant reminder of what she had lost, and might never regain.

She had found a rickety old stool in the attic when she was putting away the Christmas decorations after the new year began. It may have been a bit unsteady, but it was otherwise perfect to stand on when she wanted to access the cupboard. She would then hide it before her captor could see. And that was that!

Within moments of shoving it underneath the lowest shelf in the pantry, she heard him Apparate into the hall.

"Imbeciles," he muttered, sitting down as Hermione brought out a bowl of steaming hot porridge with honey. It was perfect for such a cold, foul morning. He slammed his newspaper down on the table. "Absolute, bloody imbeciles."

"Who?" she asked, taking her seat opposite him and plucking a piece of toast from the rack. He grunted.

"Everyone in my department _and_ the workers at _The Daily Prophet_. There is supposed to be a level of confidentiality… What are you doing, girl?"

"It sounds like you'll need your strength today, so eat up," she said, examining the front page of the paper. "I can find out what's bothering you more easily if I read this."

"You just want an excuse to read the bloody newspaper," he said, clenching his spoon.

"Yaxley, would you just eat? You look half-frozen. I noticed it as soon as you walked in the room, and I doubt that simply _looking_ at your porridge will make you feel warmer."

"Hmph."

By the time he had finished his bowl and had two large slices of buttered toast, he was starting to feel more human. She was halfway through the _Prophet_.

"I'll need that back now," he said, tugging it out of her hands. "You haven't eaten much."

"I'd rather be reading," she said, slowly turning back to her food. "Preferably studying."

"Hmm." He dusted off his robe and turned to leave, newspaper under his arm. "I might be late, if this… chaos continues."

"Would you prefer paperwork?"

"For once, yes. I would."

* * *

><p>She got a big surprise when he arrived sometime after she had finished lunch.<p>

"Are things worse?" she asked. He didn't say anything as he pulled her upstairs and into the bedroom. "They must be bad, then…"

He captured her lips before she could finish and pressed her against the bedpost. She moaned and parted her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Instead of using magic or haste, Yaxley gradually peeled off her layers of clothing, from the scarf around her neck to the fluffy slippers and bed socks that she wore, landing in a pile with her winter woollies and the leggings that she wore under her skirt. He wanted to feel agitated by the number of items that she wore, but having the opportunity to touch her, make her shiver with the cold and arousal, draw this out, was much better than he had imagined during the meeting that he had quickly dismissed.

"So dangerous," he murmured, moving his mouth to her neck and nipping at the tender skin while his hands caressed her thighs, prompting another moan. Her hands reached up and unclasped his robes, letting the material slide down his back until it pooled at his feet. Though he wore fewer clothes, she had to force away her own feelings of impatience.

Finally, they both collapsed onto the bed. He non-verbally Summoned his wand and magically tied her hands to the head board. Her eyes widened comically as she tugged at her bindings, and he smiled.

"Let's play, my pet," he said, and he lowered his lips to the hot flesh of her stomach. A white-hot trail of kisses eventually led to the juncture between her thighs, and she rose off the bed as he laved her quivering skin, letting his tongue dip into her every so often. All she could do was press her hips closer to his face, but then he would back off.

"Please!" she cried. "Oh, please…"

"'Please' what?" he asked, moving up until he was nestled between her legs. "'Please'… this?"

He thrust in with force, nearly splitting her open as he sheathed himself fully. She squirmed, her toes curling into the sheets.

"Yes," she said, breathing heavily. "That's it. More. Oh, gods, _more_! Please!"

His usually unpleasant smile widened as he pulled out slowly, and pushed back in at the same pace. Hermione was wriggling around, trying to force herself closer. She tried to pull him into her using her feet, but he magically bound them to the bedposts. She dry-sobbed as he refused to move faster.

"Beg for it, Mudblood," he hissed. A hurt look crossed her face, but his harder thrust distracted her. "Beg for more."

"Please," she said. "Please, Yaxley. I need more. I'm… so close."

He could feel it, too. She was tightening around him; but he wanted to make this last longer, _and_ he wanted her to plead with him some more. So he pulled out, only allowing his tip to stay nestled in her folds. She shivered when he accidentally brushed her clit.

"More, more, more," she entreated. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Not good enough, Miss Granger," he said, still teasing her. "What do you _really_ want me to do?"

"T-touch me," she whispered, looking into his eyes. "Take me."

"Better, but not much."

"Take me… m-master."

"Mmm…" He rocked against her, but still refused himself entry. She grew desperate.

"Please! Please, make me yours…"

He thrust in at once. She howled with each surge after that, until – at last – their lips met again. She screamed, the sound muffled, and spasm after spasm rocked her. He pulled out before he could follow, and wandlessly removed the bonds. While she still shook in post-orgasmic ecstasy, he pulled her forward by the hair and forced her mouth down. Grabbing his hips, she used the last of her strength to suck him off, not even noticing when she swallowed it all down. She fell backwards, legs spread wantonly, hair in disarray, and body flushed and covered in sweat.

Yaxley felt great satisfaction as he stood up and began to pull his clothes back on. He cast a few Refreshing Spells until he was presentable.

"I knew that you'd prove useful," he said, still eyeing her body. Her head turned at his voice, and she looked at him blearily. "Well done. You've put me in a much better mood, probably sparing at least one useless life by the end of the day."

"Is that… my contribution to… the war effort?" she asked, still panting a bit. He paused in buckling his trousers, noting the sad look in her eyes.

"You've done more than you know," he murmured. She looked confused. Little wonder; she probably hadn't heard him. He shrugged, trying to shake off the melancholy that threatened to ruin his good mood. Out loud, he bid her good-bye, and then left.

* * *

><p>Determined to forget the strange moment following their encounter that afternoon, Hermione fiddled about with the radio, trying to find a news station. Most of the channels were littered with Pureblood propaganda, so she kept re-tuning. At this rate, even a music station would be better…<p>

"If only I hadn't missed with that jinx," she said. "Alastor Moody would have been appalled at my lack of constant…"

"And today on Potterwatch…"

"…vigilance… _what_?"

Hermione quickly turned up the volume, her heart pounding as she heard the voices of Fred Weasley and Lee Jordan. She was _certain_ that it was her former housemates she was hearing. Unless, of course, her confinement was causing her to go mental. But why would she imagine them?

"…the Weasley Twins' Victory Dance, for the day when the Chief Death Eater is beaten by Lightning – and you know who we mean, don't we, River?"

"Lead `em through the steps, Rapier."

"Ha! I knew you'd catch onto the name…"

* * *

><p>When Yaxley returned to Grimmauld Place it was to the sight of Hermione jumping around along to some grand music that was clearly coming from the radio. He hadn't seen her so happy since Christmas. In fact, he had never seen her so happy before. Her expression was one of extreme joy and freedom, her head and arms jerking from side to side as she bounced. Her skirt – short, but of warm material – danced up around her hips, and he could see that she had left her leggings off. Then she began twisting in place, laughing as her hair swung around, sometimes hitting her in the face.<p>

He pulled off his cloak and hung it over an armchair as he moved forward. He could tell the moment she noticed him: she froze in place, staring at him with wide eyes.

She swallowed. Oh gods, would he yell at her? Would he take away the radio? What was her punishment going to be? And he was walking up to her…

Yaxley nudged her body into a proper standing position and stroked her hair back behind her shoulders. He looked into her eyes, slid one arm around her waist and grasped one of her hands with his free one. He vaguely registered the new instrumental piece begin, and allowed his body to lead them in a traditional waltz. Hermione laid her free hand on his shoulder, struggling to remember to breathe as they moved around the living room.

"Have you danced much before?" he asked, holding her close.

"Only at the Yule Ball three years ago," she said. "That was during the Triwizard Tournament, and…"

"Who did you dance with?"

"Um, I danced with Viktor Krum most of the time. He was my date."

"A bit of an age difference for a fourteen-year-old."

"I was fifteen," she corrected, "and I've never been bothered by age difference. My father is quite a bit older than my mother, though he doesn't really look it." She hoped it didn't bother him to talk about her Muggle parents. "They met at a dental conference when he was lecturing, and she was only a first-year dentistry student."

"Really?"

"Was there much of a difference between your parents?" she asked.

"No," he said. "Most marriages in the wizarding world exist between those who have barely a year difference in their ages."

"What about those who are in love?"

"That… is different."

"I… I see," she whispered. The music was gaining in intensity, and yet they slowed to a halt.

A moment later he was sitting in the middle of the couch and she was straddling his lap, running her hands over his chest as they kissed with a ferocity that matched the music. Her skirt was pushed up and her knickers removed wandlessly. There was no fumbling to undo his trousers; just a gentle brush as their fingers moved beside each other.

Hermione whimpered as she was lowered onto him. Their eyes never left each other, even as she sank all the way down.

No words were spoken as they began to move. Their faces were so close that another kiss was inevitable. However, instead of being fierce, this one was soft, tender, and so sweet. While his hands grasped her hips and helped her move up and down, her fingers were tangled up in his long hair, keeping his mouth pressed to hers just as their bodies moulded together.

The music swelled, seeming to move with them, a haunting melody in a minor key with rolling waves that matched the rhythm of the couple. As it crashed over them once more, they gasped into each other's mouths, still kissing, and reached completion together. He kept her pelvis pressed to his, buried deeply inside her, filling her womb with warmth, and pulled her flush against his torso. They continued to rock, prolonging the pleasure, until the music grew softer.

Hermione pulled back first, surprised to find that they had kissed the entire way through. She watched Yaxley's eyes drift open and touched her swollen lips. Still silent, she stood up, already missing the connection and the heat of his body, and looked away, her heart pounding. She heard him adjust his clothes and she smoothed down her skirt, making a mental note to go and get fresh underwear.

"If you're joining us now, then the last two pieces of music were _Finlandia_ by Sibelius and _Moldau_ by Smetana, both pieces of musical nationalism by Muggle composers. They are brought to you by River…"

"And Rapier…"

"On Potterwatch!" the presenters said. Hermione's blood ran cold as she listened, hardly daring to look at Yaxley. When she did steal a glance, she saw his expression harden.

"Next on our program is _Pines Near a Catacomb_ by Respighi, another Muggle…"

She jumped as he threw the radio against the far wall, shattering it into a thousand bits. Tensing as he walked towards her, she was faintly relieved when he merely brushed past, grabbed his cloak, and then Disapparated from the hallway.

For a full half-hour she stared at the broken radio, feeling as though more had broken than just that. She had forgotten the war, forgotten who he was, as soon as he took her in his arms to dance. And when she was riding him in his lap to the strains of classical music… there was nothing else in the world.

It was hard to be sad over the loss of the radio – it wasn't hers, after all – but it had been wonderful to hear familiar voices, even though she'd never been close to either of the young men. And if they really were giving hope to those loyal to the Light, then that was wonderful, too. Were Ron and Harry listening? She hoped so. If only she'd been able to listen to more of the show. Well, she certainly couldn't now.

There was a strange feeling between her legs, and she remembered that she had to put on some new underpants, since Yaxley… since he Vanished them.

Like a robot, she trudged upstairs. It wasn't until night-time, when he hadn't returned, that she began to cry.

* * *

><p>Yaxley had gone through several quills, two bottles of ink and almost an entire ream of parchment within the month following the… incident in the living room. It wasn't from using them, though. Oh no. It was from destroying them, either accidentally or through fits of anger.<p>

He had allowed himself to get too close to her, make her think that it was all right to manipulate him so, distract him from his important work. Creatures like her were the reason he had become a Death Eater, and demonstrated why it was essential that her kind be destroyed. Never mind the feeling of nausea that he got every time he imagined her under the pain of the Cruciatus Curse, or the light leaving her eyes as she was hit by the Killing Curse. He could ignore the stabbing feeling in his chest.

The only reason that he had lost his mind and danced with her was because of the way her body moved, the bits of skin revealed when her skirt twirled around her and whenever her blouse rode up, and the knowledge of what was beneath those clothes. That was all. It was nothing to do with her smiles, the candlelight, the music or the warmth of the fire, let alone his desire to see her after such a stressful day.

Now he was more stressed than ever. He'd managed to go without regular female company for most of his life. Who was this Muggleborn to come and change that? No. Mudblood, not Muggleborn.

Still, if things continued in this way – and many people had noticed his dramatic change in demeanour – then he would need some relief.

And it was only appropriate that she provide that relief.

* * *

><p>It had been exactly thirty-three days and two minutes since Yaxley had left. Hermione had drifted around the house all those days, ignoring the usual taunts from the portraits and wishing that she could just die. She wasn't in pain or anything. Not physical pain. Not unless the pain in her chest could be counted, and she hardly thought that there was a cure for that. There was certainly nothing in any of the books that she had read, and by now she had read them all. There had been nothing else to do each day, except have a couple of meals, a shower, and a fitful sleep.<p>

She jumped, her most animated movement since doing the Weasley Twins' Victory Dance on… on that day.

For she had just heard the unmistakable crack of Apparation.

She put away the stool quietly, grateful that at least he still sent some food through, even though she couldn't eat much. Then she left the kitchen, walked through the dining room and crept down the hallway.

He was there. He was at the door of the living room, looking in, still as a statue. As she stepped towards him a floorboard creaked beneath her foot, and she froze in place. He turned his head, and seemed almost surprised to see her there.

"Hello," she said, breaking the silence. He turned around properly to face her.

"Hello," he replied. Neither moved.

For about two seconds.

In the next instant they were in each other's arms, hands and lips going everywhere. He hoisted her up and she hooked her legs around his waist, stroking the back of his neck and his shoulders, whispering words of nothingness into his ear.

It was a stilted climb up the stairs, hampered by the sensations of being together, and both silently swearing never to be apart for so long again.

* * *

><p>Someone, perhaps both, had summoned the energy to pull the quilt up. Their hands rested next to each other, barely touching. Neither mentioned what happened thirty-three days before. They were currently coming to terms with what was happening, something which couldn't be voiced. Finally, Yaxley spoke.<p>

"Sorry I forgot to send through some Pain Relief Potion," he said. She looked at him, frowning in confusion.

"For what?"

"Your… monthly," he said. "Usually you have some, but I didn't put any in the cupboard, and I wasn't sure whether there was any in the bathroom cabinet…"

While he talked, Hermione panicked. Her period. It was supposed to come a couple of weeks ago. It had never been this late before, even when she'd been sick. Oh gods. What if…

"…so have you been in pain?" he asked, just as she tuned back in. She shook herself.

"Um… no," she said. _Not physically_. "No. I haven't been in pain."

"Good," he said. Then he closed his eyes, as he always did when he rested after sex. At least, whenever they were in bed. This gave her more time to worry.

She couldn't be pregnant. If she was pregnant, that meant that she was in love with him, and she couldn't be in love with him. He was a _Death Eater_, and he hated anyone who wasn't a Pureblood. He would never accept their child, assuming that he didn't insist upon an abortion. Would he do that?

No. She couldn't be in love with the enemy, especially when there was no chance of him loving her back. It was the stress. And she hadn't been eating enough. That was why she was late…

Oh dear. His kiss was making it impossible to think. Lips, tongue, warmth, smoothness… ooh…

Suddenly, Yaxley hissed and grabbed his arm, rolling away. She could see the Dark Mark undulating on his skin. She looked away, feeling sick, even as she reminded herself that she really couldn't be in love with him. Wasn't. She wasn't. She was smarter than that. And that kiss hadn't affected her at all.

"I must go," he said, though he hesitated before pushing away his half of the covers. Hermione stared at the canopy, taking steady breaths. "It had better be important."

Little did they know that Harry and Ron had been caught.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for all your kind well-wishes, m'dears! Now, unless you want to read all about my favourite pieces of instrumental music – and how they fit into the story – that's it for this author note.<strong>

'**Finlandia', by Jean Sibelius, is one of the most nationalistic compositions ever written. It's got a very dark beginning (to symbolise oppression), but later on has a theme that is used as a hymn. Funnily enough, the hymn is called 'Finlandia'. The piece was used in the film score of the second 'Die Hard' movie. Obscure Alan Rickman reference! Yay! (And watch out for Professor Snape in future chapters.)**

'**Moldau' is part of the 'My Country (Ma Vlast)' suite by Bedřich Smetana. There are six parts to the suite, and 'Moldau (Vltava)' is the most famous of them. It's got this lovely theme running through, that – quite frankly – is enough to bring tears to the eyes. It's that beautiful. (And it's familiar to people who fly with Czech Airlines, according to Wikipedia.) The obscure reference – which I only realised the day after finishing this chapter – is that the Moldau is a river. 'River', as in Lee Jordan on Potterwatch?**

**Finally, 'Pines Near a Catacomb' is part of a suite by Ottorino Respighi, called 'The Pines of Rome (Pini di Roma)'. Hey! There's an obscure Remus Lupin reference! (Very obscure.) Anyway, 'Pines Near a Catacomb (Pini presso una catacomba)' is, again, the second part of the suite, and it's got some very exciting bits in it.**

**You know what? If you haven't heard of any of these, you should go and look them up. I'd say that 'Moldau' is my favourite out of these three, but there are plenty of nationalistic composers who wrote excellent symphonic poems. I figured that if Potterwatch ever played classical music written by Muggles, this is the kind of stuff they'd play.**

**(By the way, the lemon took place during 'Moldau'. I hope that my little descriptions did it some small justice.)**

**May I recommend Grieg? Especially 'Wedding Day at Troldhaugen', which I can play on the piano for memory, and most of his 'Peer Gynt' incidental music. PM me for specifics. *Cue smiles***


	6. Another Grand Escape

"Another Grand Escape"

"Someone said the Dark Lord's name?" Yaxley asked, entering Malfoy Manor. He was surprised to see that Bellatrix wasn't there; no doubt she was with their master. Pettigrew greeted him, with Narcissa and the Draco in the background. Surely the school holidays were over?

"They are in the cellar, along with the blonde girl," Pettigrew said, leading him through the manor.

"The Dark Lord wished to give you another chance after what happened at the Ministry," Narcissa said. "Draco is here to identify them, if it is safe enough."

"And you want me to make sure that it's safe enough," Yaxley said. "How magnanimous you are, Narcissa."

"Please," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "We are all family."

As he followed Pettigrew to the cellar, her words prompted a memory to surface: one of his conversations with Hermione.

"_I envy you for something," she said, between bites of lasagne._

"_Is that so?" He was only half-listening, contemplating something that had happened at work that day._

"_Yes. I envy you your family."_

_Now he was paying attention._

"_I thought that you hated them," he said._

"_But you have so many cousins," she said. "And I don't hate all of them. You're related to the Weasleys, aren't you? And Sirius and Tonks?"_

"_Distantly," he muttered._

"_I haven't got _any_ cousins," she said, now only playing with her food. "That was why I only had to erase my parents' memories. They were only children, just like me, and my grandparents are all dead. I disapprove of the fact that you all marry your cousins – no matter how distant – as in-breeding leads to birth defects. But your family is vast, and… and I envy that. And there are so many more viable organs should someone need a kidney."_

He almost chuckled at her last remark. But Pettigrew was now unlocking the door to the cellar. Once inside, they closed it to cut off speedy escape.

The Lovegood child was kneeling by the two boys lying on the floor, wearing some beaded bag hung over her shoulder. She was stroking their hair and looking off into the distance. Her attention drifted over to the Death Eaters when the door clicked shut behind them.

One of the boys had bright red hair and the other had messy, black hair. Yaxley knew immediately who they were, even though it had been more than five months since their last encounter, according to his calculations.

Had it _really_ only been five months since he first took Hermione?

"Hello," Luna said. She began to shake the two boys, ignoring the wands being aimed at them. "Wake up, boys."

"So tired," the redhead grumbled, pushing himself off the floor. The black-haired boy mirrored his actions. Then they realised where they were and shot to their feet. Despite the scratches on his face, the second boy had an unmistakable scar on his forehead. They scowled at both men, but seemed to relax a little when the girl took a hold of their elbows.

"We have visitors," she said. Yaxley bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing.

"It's them, all right," Pettigrew said. "I'll call the Dark Lord…"

"Narcissa wishes Draco to see for himself," Yaxley said, keeping an eye on the cowering little man. "Did you attend school with these two boys?"

"No…"

"Then wait for Draco. And… I wish to check for myself." He began to move forward. It had occurred to him as he entered that they knew about Hermione, and – if the elf had indeed spoken to them – about their arrangement. He also knew that he couldn't let these boys die. He could never face Hermione again if he did nothing to save them.

Just when had his values changed? And… why did find himself not giving a damn?

"Were their wands confiscated?" he asked Pettigrew.

"Yes, yes, they were," he said, shuffling in place. "They'll be at the Ministry by now."

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked. "We know that she was with you."

"Dobby told us…" Ron began, but Yaxley noticed that Pettigrew was backing towards the door.

"You know where the Mudblood is?" he said. "Then I should tell the Dark Lord…"

Without blinking an eye, Yaxley killed him. After the green light faded he Levitated Pettigrew's body to a dark corner and retrieved the wand before turning to the prisoners.

"Your friend is safe," he said softly. However, before he could continue they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He rolled Pettigrew's replacement wand along the floor towards the boys, placed a finger against his lips to tell them to shut up, and then hid in the shadows behind the door. It opened, and he was relieved to see that it was Draco, not Narcissa, who stepped into the room and shut the door.

"Potter," he sneered. Before he could move, Ron leapt at him, distracting the blond enough for Harry to grab the wand unnoticed. Then he Disarmed and Stunned Draco and handed it to his friend.

"Well, Pettigrew was your rat for years," he said, bending over to pick up Draco's wand. Then he squinted into the darkness. "Yaxley? If you've hurt her…"

"I told you, your friend is safe," he said, stepping into the light. "I can take you to see her; all three of you, if you wish."

"Why the hell should we trust you?" Ron asked. "Unless Dobby was lying."

"I was perhaps… a bit crude in my terms when I spoke to the house elf," Yaxley admitted. He walked over to Pettigrew's body. Never was he so grateful for his thorough education at Hogwarts and beyond. He squatted down beside the corpse and pulled out one of his own hairs. "Pay attention to this. It's a damn useful spell. A bit Dark, but then so is Polyjuice Potion, and this is much quicker. The only problem is that it is permanent. Very popular in times of war, when used in cases such as this." He placed the hair on Pettigrew's forehead and waved his wand in circles over it while he spoke the incantation.

"Accipere genitor et mutatio perpetuo corpus," he whispered, over and over, until Pettigrew's body had completely changed to look like his. He Levitated the body closer to the door, bearing in mind that Draco wouldn't have seen it when he entered.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked.

"I think he's faking his death, Ronald," Luna said. She looked at the Death Eater with big eyes. "Is it to do with Hermione?"

"I believe that Pettigrew was an Animagus?" Yaxley said, avoiding her question.

"Yes," Harry said. "He was a rat."

"Was that his form as well?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah."

"Very well."

He blasted one of the rats scurrying around in the corner. They only came into the cellar to avoid bad weather, but they were unpleasant companions for the captives. However, they had finally served a useful purpose.

"Now let's get out of here," he said.

"Wait, wait, wait," Ron said, raising his hands. "What is this all about?"

"You shouldn't have informed the Dark Lord so soon!" That was Narcissa.

"Where is Draco?" Lucius asked.

"Come on!" Yaxley hissed. He held out his arm. "Grab on, and I'll prove that she's alive. _He_ will be here soon."

Luna immediately held onto his wrist. It was the sound of footsteps approaching that prompted the boys to hold onto Yaxley, who then Disapparated with them.

* * *

><p>Hermione had fallen asleep, snuggled under the covers with only her head showing. Her breathing was loud enough for her three friends to hear from the doorway. Luna still went forward and checked on her, before reporting back to the boys that she was all right. All this was conducted while Hermione slept soundly, her emotions having exhausted her enough for one day.<p>

Much as Yaxley wanted to curl up and sleep with her – something he had never done before – he didn't want her to get a terrible shock when she woke up. So he conjured a cot and lay down on that.

In the morning he awoke early, Vanished the cot and then went back to his manor, where he swore his house elf to secrecy about his supposed death. There, the elf gave him a copy of the newspaper, which he perused during an earlier-than-usual breakfast. He wanted to get back before Hermione woke up so that he could explain that her friends really _were_ there, and that it wasn't some horrible trick.

The Lovegood child was making breakfast when he got back. He had left the paper on the table in the hallway, just in case the boys wanted to read it.

"Have you already eaten, sir?" she asked, smiling pleasantly. It made him uncomfortable that she was being friendly.

"Yes, I have," he said. "I'm sure the others will be hungry, though. Usually Hermione cooks…"

"You like her, don't you?"

"…What?"

"It's in your aura when you speak about her," she said. "Around your heart." She tilted her head. "So you don't _just_ like her."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.

* * *

><p>Harry and Ron were changing their clothes when Hermione woke up. Not knowing that anything was different, she padded down the stairs, pausing when she saw the paper on the table. She picked it up, hoping that Yaxley had left it for her, even if that meant that he was gone again.<p>

It felt like a kick to the gut.

_**PETTIGREW, YAXLEY FOUND DEAD**_

She read all about how Harry, Luna and Ron had been prisoners, and were suspected to be responsible for the deaths of the two men and the Stunning of Draco Malfoy. But it was that one phrase that ran through her mind… 'Yaxley found dead', 'Yaxley found dead', 'Yaxley found dead'…

"Oh gods," she whispered, dropping the paper. Then she heard footsteps behind her, and turned, half-hoping to see him. Instead…

"Hermione!" Ron and Harry shouted, and they jumped down the last few steps. She shrank back, causing them to stop in their tracks.

"I-identify yourselves," she said, trying to stay calm.

"Um," Ron said, and he pulled the beaded bag out from behind his back. "You threw this at us while Yaxley had his wand at your throat."

She couldn't help it; a tear fell down her cheek. "And you… you…"

"Luna's here, too," Harry said.

"You killed him!" she shouted, clutching her chest. "You k-killed him!"

"We didn't kill Pettigrew," Ron said, but she wasn't listening.

"How could you kill him like that? He kept me safe! He… he… The Light is about saving, _not _murdering! I c-can't believe it. He _can't_ be dead," she said softly.

She turned her back on them, hugging herself. If she really was pregnant…

Then she heard someone clear his throat, and knew who it was.

"I, uh, killed Pettigrew," Yaxley said, his heart beating faster. "And then a rat. My 'body' is really Pettigrew's…"

He relaxed and smiled when Hermione ran forward and threw her arms around him. Her body shook as she pressed her face into his neck, trying to control her tears. Then he put his arms around her, and all was right with the world.

"Oh, thank Circe," she whispered, holding him close.

"Your friends aren't murderers, Hermione," he said. "You don't need to worry about their souls anymore."

She pulled back, dropping to her feet, her hands still on his shoulders.

"Why did you pretend to die?" she asked.

"Don't we get hugs?" Harry said. She turned around and finally looked pleased to see them.

"O-of course," she said, walking towards them. "Sorry. I haven't had any other company for so long that I sort of… forgot."

"Uh-huh," Ron said, but he was scowling at Yaxley. Hermione engulfed her two best friends in her arms.

"It's so good to see you," she said, tugging them until they were embracing her back. "I was so worried. What _happened_ to you?"

"They said the taboo word," Yaxley said. "Pity they didn't report that particular danger on Potterwatch." She stiffened.

"You know about Potterwatch?" Harry asked. "What about… You-Know-Who?"

"I only know about it because Miss Granger was listening to it one day when I got ho… here. I'll replace the radio, if you want me to," he added. She looked at him, but Ron spoke before she could.

"We've got one, thanks," he said. Then he dipped his head to kiss Hermione. She turned her head in time, catching the peck on her cheek.

"Luna!" she exclaimed, seeing the young Ravenclaw. She let go of Ron and Harry quick smart and the two girls embraced.

"It's in your aura, too," Luna said, quietly enough so that only a confused Hermione could hear her. In her normal tones, she announced breakfast.

"After all that, I'm starving," Hermione said. She hooked arms with Luna, glancing up at Yaxley on her way past. He remained expressionless as he stared back, but broke the moment when he turned around and walked down the hall.

"I have affairs that must be seen to, now that I am supposedly deceased," he said. "I shall return in time for lunch, if I am welcome."

"Of course," Hermione said. She looked at Harry. "Oh. I suppose that this is really your house, isn't it?"

"You've lived here more than I have," he said, shrugging. "Maybe he can help us? If that's what you're going to do," he continued, raising his eyebrows at Yaxley.

"I think it's safe to say that I've defected," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching when he saw Hermione's bright smile. "Then I will most assuredly return at midday."

"Okay," she said. "And thank you for rescuing them. I hope this hasn't all been a dream. Ow!" She glared at Luna, but then her expression lightened. "I could have pinched myself, you know."

"Thank me later," Yaxley said. He tried not to smirk at the way Ron's face reddened. Served him right for trying to kiss _his _Hermione.

* * *

><p>"I'd like to return to my father," Luna said. "And Hogwarts. They might be wondering where I am."<p>

"Of course they are," Hermione said, patting her hand. "You'll be able to help us when you go back to Hogwarts. It's just a matter of getting you there, but we'll do it. Even if we have to sneak you in."

"You should tell me about your mission, if I'm supposed to help you," Luna said. The members of the famous trio looked at each other.

"Have you told _him_?" Ron asked, jerking his head at Yaxley, who was calmly sipping his drink.

"No, Ron," Hermione said. "I would never do that. He wasn't on our side until this morning."

"Last night, technically," Yaxley said. "But then, I think I defected quite some time ago, without realising it." He half-smiled at Hermione before returning to his salad, missing her look of shock.

"So what did Professor Dumbledore tell you to do, Harry?" Luna asked, kicking the boys under the table. "Or did you take an oath not to tell anyone?"

"Uh, right," Harry said, nudging Ron to stop him from scowling at Yaxley. "Have you ever heard of horcruxes?"

* * *

><p>Hermione's absence had forced the boys to think more than usual, as Ron put it. They worked out that the necklace made them angrier, but that didn't help them destroy it. So they continued to travel around the countryside, listening to the radio and arguing. Then something big happened.<p>

A Patronus had led them to a frozen lake which held the Sword of Gryffindor, so Harry had retrieved it while Ron looked after the locket. A few nights after that, his emotions in a mess because of the horcrux, Ron had unthinkingly split it in two with the sword, since magic hadn't worked against it. Miraculously, it succeeded in destroying the horcrux.

"We've been thinking about what else could be a horcrux," Harry said, but Hermione wasn't paying attention.

"I've got it!" she said, thumping her hand on the table. "I know why the sword worked. Do you remember when you destroyed Riddle's diary in our second year?"

"Yeah."

"You used a Basilisk fang."

"I remember it, Hermione," he said.

"But you killed the Basilisk with the sword, and the sword would have got venom on it, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, the sword was made by a goblin," she said. "The silver blade will absorb that which makes it stronger; in this case, Basilisk venom." She sat back, smiling smugly. "That's why Dumbledore left it to you. It can destroy horcruxes."

"That's great, but we still don't know what the rest of the horcruxes _are_," Ron said. He hadn't smiled once, throughout the whole meal. Hermione's grin faded.

"How can you be so defeatist?" she asked. "I mean, you destroyed the locket, and the ring and the diary were also destroyed some time ago. That leaves only four more to find."

"If we can work out what they are," he argued.

"Quiet!" Yaxley said. He waited; they stayed silent. "Do you know how to work out whether or not something's a horcrux, or are you just deducing it based on a few memories and the little that you know about the Dark Lord?"

"The latter," Hermione said. "Unless there's a spell to locate a person's horcrux. But I've never come across one."

"Perhaps a modified version of a Soul-Searching Charm," he said.

"That could work!" she agreed, eyes alight. "I could do some research… if I could access my books." She shook her head. "We can talk about that later. I want to know where that Patronus came from, and why someone would leave you the sword. Was it the person who stole it in the first place, or did someone else take it from _them_? Do we know anyone whose Patronus is a doe?"

"Mine's a stag," Harry said, shrugging. "But I didn't cast it anyway."

"No," she said, tapping her chin. "No, but a person's Patronus is often connected to some part of them, something that inspires strong emotions."

"What is your Patronus, Mr. Yaxley?" Luna asked. They all turned to him.

If he was the nervous type, he would have squirmed in his seat. Instead, he simply looked back at them, hoping that they'd take the hint and leave him alone. Then it dawned on him that none of them were Slytherins. What did they know about subtlety? They would also be willing to admit weaknesses; he wasn't. He could conjure a Patronus, yes, but it had never taken a corporeal form; he didn't have enough good memories, and none of them especially strong.

But they were waiting for an answer. _Hermione_ was waiting for an answer. He withdrew his wand with an inaudible sigh and prepared himself for potential humiliation. What happy memory could he try? His gaze wandered to Hermione, and it hit him.

"Expecto Patronum!" he said, and a silvery shape burst out of his wand. It quickly took the form of a lioness, and began to bound around the table and its inhabitants. He heard a gasp – from Hermione – and inwardly flinched.

"Ah," Luna said. "I just wondered."

"Aren't you a Slytherin?" Harry said, finally tearing his gaze from the Patronus. Yaxley finished the spell and avoided all their eyes.

"I was," he said. "At school. That was a long time ago."

"Uh, speaking of houses," Hermione said, her voice cracking, making her blush, "do we agree that You-Know-Who was going to make horcruxes from objects belonging to the four founders?"

"Yeah," Ron said, sitting forward. "But probably not Godric Gryffindor. Slytherin's covered, of course. The locket, the ring." He ticked things off on his fingers. "The diary, but that was _his_. So there's Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and then…" He paused. "Two more? That makes four."

"Well done, Ron," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "We know about Hufflepuff's artefact, though we don't know where it is. Luna, do you know of any famous object that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw?"

"There's her diadem," Luna said. "Of course, no one knows where it is. But if You-Know-Who turned it into a horcrux then you just need to work out where he hid it."

"That's it?" Ron asked. "A lost… what's a diadem?"

"It's like a tiara," Hermione said.

"Ri-ight. So Ravenclaw didn't have anything else like that?"

"If you want to find out more about it, you could ask the Grey Lady," Luna said.

"We'll keep that in mind," Harry said. "Dumbledore thought that Nagini might be a horcrux, but can they be living things? I mean, that's never been done before, right?"

"I could do some more research, but I'll need my books," Hermione said. She picked up the bag as she stood. "I'll be in the library if someone needs me."

She paused to look at Yaxley, but he was still evading eye contact. Sighing, she left the room.

* * *

><p>During the night, Harry really regretted having cheese and crackers before going to bed. He was having strange dreams, memories of Hogwarts. The images were filled with many blurred shapes, differing in size, colour and proximity. He felt like he was reaching for something as he wandered through his dream, but never managed to grasp it.<p>

Voldemort had been angry last night; his fury induced many nightmares, ones which had him waking up and gasping for breath. He had been annoyed about Pettigrew's death, enraged about Yaxley's (although he didn't know that it had been faked), but was even more livid when Malfoy said that it really had been Harry Potter and Ron Weasley in custody. Sleeping had been difficult, needless to say, especially with all the screaming.

So the foggy dream was a bit of a relief, but it was frustrating that he couldn't see properly. It was like he needed his glasses, but he had never been able to sleep with his glasses on.

He would have to ask Hermione in the morning.

* * *

><p><strong>This is my author note:<strong>

**See ya!**


	7. The Professor Makes Six or Seven

"The Professor Makes Six… or Seven"

"You don't want me anymore, do you?"

Yaxley looked up from where he was reading the newspaper by the fire. Luna was trying to teach the boys a bit more about cooking, especially since they kept suffering from stomach problems during their 'camping trip'. With those three occupied, Hermione went to find her… well, what could she call him?

"What do you mean?" he asked, putting the paper aside. She was wringing her hands.

"You haven't even looked at me for the last couple of days, and you certainly haven't made any… demands."

"I have defected from the Dark Lord," he said, standing up. "You no longer have to do what I say for fear of being turned over to him. Trust me, Miss Granger; I will never make such 'demands' of you again."

Just as he went to move past her, she caught his arm.

"May I make some demands, then?" she asked. He swallowed.

"_Anything_," he said, before mentally kicking himself. This was showing weakness, something he had done far too often the last few days. But Hermione didn't laugh at him. Instead, she placed a hand on his cheek; not for a slap, but for a caress.

"The first one is… call me 'Hermione'," she said. "It seems ridiculous for you to call me 'Miss Granger'."

"As you wish," he said. "Hermione." She smiled brightly.

"My second one is that I…" She looked down, blushing furiously. He tilted her chin up.

"What is it?" he asked softly.

"Keep making those demands of me."

He thought that he'd misheard. She hadn't just asked him that… had she?

"W-what was that?"

"Don't make me say it again," she said, pulling back. He grabbed her hands before she could go. "Please…"

"Hermione," he said. He glanced at the doorway, but there was no one there. He would do it; he would let down his guard. "Sit down."

"No, I won't," she said. "Just tell me whatever it is you want to say."

He chuckled. "I wasn't going to _say_ anything. Just stand still, then."

With that, he took out his wand and undid every spell that he had placed on her that first day. She began to feel light-headed as each bond was lifted, until only the block on her magic remained. She noticed him hesitate.

"You _can_ undo it, can't you?" she said.

"Yes. Just be prepared."

She understood his warning very well. As soon as the final spell was lifted she could feel the rush of magic through her veins, reaching parts of her that she hadn't felt in ages. It made her so dizzy that Yaxley had to grab her before she fell over. Holding her bridal-style, he waited until she opened her eyes again. There was an extra sparkle there that he hadn't noticed before, no doubt brought about by the return of her magic.

"You were right," she said. "I should have sat down."

"Can you stand?"

"I think so."

He kept an arm around her once she had her feet on the ground, as she was still unsteady.

"Are you all right now?"

"I am," she said, smiling up at him.

"Here." He gave her his wand. "Try it out."

"I'd rather use my own," she replied, handing it back. "Come on."

She grabbed his hand and almost dragged him up to the master bedroom. There she pulled out her wand from under her pillow and brandished it. Tears came to her eyes.

"It's such a rush," she said, her hands shaking slightly.

"I know."

"You… you know? How…"

"My father used to punish me like that," he said, looking out the window. "If I misbehaved in any way, he would usually cut off my powers for up to weeks at a time. There is nothing worse to a Pureblood than to lose their magic, even if it's only temporary. And the 'rush'," he smiled bitterly, "was just as overwhelming every time. Mind you, I was a child then."

"When you were a student?"

"No." He sat on the edge of the bed. "I'd learned my lesson by then. Horace Slughorn was not a strict disciplinarian, but he knew my father, and knew that I had to be kept in line more than some others, for my own sake."

"You were a rebel?" she asked jokingly, sitting beside him.

"Being a rebel would likely have gotten me killed," he said. He was entirely serious. "It was safer to behave. We cannot all be like Sirius Black."

"But he _did_ die," she said, taking his hand. He looked down, surprised. "You're still alive."

He didn't speak for a moment. Then he wrenched himself away and stood before her.

"It is your right to take your revenge on me, Miss Granger," he said, and he threw his wand aside. "Will you do so?"

She smiled. "I have a better idea for my first spell in… gosh, almost half a year." She jumped to her feet and looked around. "I'd like to redecorate this room."

* * *

><p>"Doesn't she know that she doesn't have to be with him now?" Ron asked, nearly cutting off his fingers. Again. "I mean, he's not one of them anymore." He leaned closer to Harry. "But I wouldn't put anything past him, right, Harry?"<p>

"Right, Ron. Oi! Watch where you're waving that knife! I know I wear glasses, but that's still dangerous, mate."

"Oh. Sorry," he said, placing the knife down. "Right. I've cut the carrots, Luna. What next?"

"You have a very interesting method when it comes to chopping vegetables, Ronald," she said.

"You're a girl, right?" he said.

"Oh, not again," Harry groaned.

"Well, she is!" Ron said. "She's got a girl's way of looking at things."

"You want to know what Hermione would see in a man like Mr. Yaxley," Luna said.

"Wait! What she… what she _sees_ in him?" He was incredulous. "No. She doesn't see anything in him. I just want to know why she feels like she still has to do… whatever she's been doing for him. He's supposed to be on our side now. She doesn't need this."

"Oh, Ron," she said, shaking her head.

"He's crazy, isn't he, Luna?" Harry asked. Ron glared at him.

"Not _really_ crazy," she said. "Just as crazy as anyone else."

"Good to know."

"What you don't understand is that 'having' to do something and 'needing' to do something are quite different," she said. "Hermione doesn't have to be with him. But she might _need_ to be with him."

"'With him'? Oh, gods," Ron said, looking at the ceiling. "She wouldn't. And… and they mean _exactly_ the same thing."

Luna shook her head and went back to mashing the potatoes.

* * *

><p>That night, when they all went to bed, Yaxley made sure that no one was watching and then followed Hermione into her bedroom. She now felt much more comfortable referring to it as 'hers' ever since she redecorated.<p>

"Oh!" She jumped when she heard the door close, and then blushed when she saw who it was. "I didn't realise that you were… uh…"

"I recall something about you wanting me to make certain… demands," he said, smiling unsurely. "Was I wrong?"

Her smile was slow in coming, but when she realised the truth of his statement she couldn't help but grin like an idiot.

"I thought you didn't want me," she said, lying down. He climbed onto the bed beside her.

"I didn't wish for you to feel obliged…"

"I haven't felt obliged for some time."

"Oh." He kissed her on the lips briefly, and then began to unbutton her pyjama top. Hermione groped about for her wand, and then Vanished their clothes. He grinned.

"I use my powers for good," she said, grinning back.

"Are you sure that you're not using them for wicked?" he asked, and he began to kiss his way down her neck and then chest. She trembled.

"I… I'm not sure…"

"Mmm." He inhaled deeply, staring at her skin. "Roll over. I want to kiss your back."

She was on her stomach in a moment, dripping wet already. He knelt behind her and ran his hands up her arms. She moaned as they trailed down her back lightly, followed by his lips. His fingers massaged the flesh of her thighs and buttocks as he covered her back in little kisses, working his way lower.

"Yaxley," she whispered. "Please take me. Make lo… make me y-yours again."

He paused, but in the next instant he was positioning himself and preparing to press into her body.

"Are you sure?" he said.

"I've never been so sure."

'Thank Merlin,' he mouthed, sinking into her depths. She gasped and bucked against him as he brushed something that was insanely pleasurable. He chuckled and pushed further inside, all the way to the hilt. Once there he savoured the feeling. It was perfection. It was something he had been missing all his life.

He bent over and slid his right arm beneath her pelvis. Then, backing up slowly, he pulled her until she was on all fours. He kissed the skin between her shoulders before withdrawing, and then slowly thrusting back in. Hermione whimpered when he touched that spot again, and then again. The pace was unhurried, each move designed to increase her pleasure, until she was crying out and clenching around him. While she was still shaking with bliss, he pulled out and then moved her until she was on her back. He used her wand to ward the door and placed a Silencing Charm.

"Sorry," she said, her chest heaving. "I forgot. We haven't…"

"I know," he said, and he captured her mouth to shut her up. He tossed her wand aside and began to stroke her body into position. Once there, he surged back into her. Gods, she was always so tight, no matter the angle. The fact that her inner walls were still quivering didn't help his control. He grabbed her hands, entwining their fingers, and held them on the pillows either side of her head. All this without stopping the kiss.

Exhausted by the time they reached climax – for Hermione, the second time – they lay entangled. It wasn't until she thought of her possible pregnancy that she began to push at him to move off. Rather than removing himself, he held her as he rolled onto his back, keeping them connected. The intimacy of the action brought tears to Hermione's eyes, but she hid her face in his chest as she blinked them back. No point in giving herself away, even if he seemed to care about her. There was no way a conformist Pureblood would ever love a Muggleborn.

Yet he never left her bed that night.

* * *

><p>By the morning they had separated, but his arm was draped across her stomach where she lay. Then she realised what had woken her up.<p>

Desperate though she was, she didn't wish to wake him up because of this. So she carefully extricated herself, grabbed a dressing gown, and was soon scurrying down the hallway into the bathroom. She barely had time to shut the door and get to the toilet before she was throwing up.

Morning sickness. It had to be morning sickness. Unless she was having a hysterical pregnancy. Were there hysterical pregnancies in the wizarding world?

Oh gods.

No. She knew that she was pregnant. But to make sure, she needed to get someone to cast the spell, someone who _knew_ the spell, someone she could trust to be discreet.

She moaned as she knelt by the toilet, just in case she was sick again. She doubted her friends knew, and she couldn't ask Yaxley.

"Think, Hermione," she muttered. "Think!"

Even had she known the spell, she couldn't cast it on herself. There was too high a risk of the test being compromised by her own feelings towards being pregnant.

Once her stomach appeared to be settled, she flushed the loo, brushed her teeth and left the bathroom. It was lighter now, and she could see clearly when she got back to her room.

He wasn't there.

* * *

><p>She could only manage toast for breakfast, plain toast at that. And juice.<p>

"Where's Mr. Yaxley?" Luna asked. Ron and Harry looked at Hermione immediately. She shrugged.

"I haven't seen him since last night," she said.

"It didn't sound like that," Harry said darkly, looking away again. She blushed.

"He was my only human contact for months," she said. "Did you even _tell_ anyone that I was a prisoner here?"

"Sounded like you didn't mind being a 'prisoner'," Ron muttered, scowling at his plate.

"Oh, _Ronald_," she said, throwing down her napkin. She stood up. "If that's the attitude that you're going to take then I'll go to the library. Just bear in mind," she pointed at the two boys, "that he never handed me over to You-Know-Who. He never beat me, and he stopped calling me 'Mudblood'. He worked out which books would be safe for me to read, and that was after he saved my life when a cursed book nearly killed me. So don't you _dare_ say a thing against…"

Yaxley burst into the room, his wand drawn.

"Someone's trying to break through the wards," he said. "Only one person, and I know who it is. I'll wait until he gets inside and then deal with it. Wait here."

"Who is it?" Hermione asked. He glanced at her.

"Severus Snape," he said. Harry jumped up.

"Let me deal with him," he said, pulling out his wand.

"There'll be no fighting until I know why he's here," Yaxley said. "It may be a trap."

"Then shouldn't one of us do it?" Hermione said. "I mean, you're not supposed to be alive, as far as he knows."

"I'm not letting you fight someone of Severus Snape's calibre… Shh! He's coming now!"

* * *

><p>Severus stepped over the threshold into Grimmauld Place. The first thing – one of the first things – that he noticed was the absence of Walburga Black's portrait.<p>

He'd been able to identify Yaxley's signature all over the new wards. What he didn't know was whether his fellow Death Eater was actually living here, or whether he was at his manor. Either way, he needed to exercise caution.

Just as he turned but slightly to lock and ward the door, he sensed someone about to attack him.

The battle was over in a few minutes, but it was fierce and dangerous. Finally, it was Harry and Ron's help that resulted in Severus being bound and gagged, and then Levitated through to the living room. Hermione and Luna followed, one looking on anxiously and the other merely drifting unconcernedly.

The dark-haired man glared at them as he was tied to a chair. Finally, his gag was removed, but the scowl remained intact.

But then no one knew what to say. Well, almost no one.

"Hello, Professor Snape," Luna said. Only those who knew her well would have seen the harder look in her eyes when she spoke to him.

"Miss Lovegood," he said. His gaze moved to Yaxley. "I wondered if you had defected when I saw the rat's remains. Pettigrew's form had fur of a different colour. Then it was merely a case of checking 'your' body for something other than the cause of death."

"Who did you tell?" Yaxley asked.

"No one." He smiled nastily. "But I am curious. Why would _you_, of all people, fake your death? What could possibly entice you to defect? And not only that, but you freed the prisoners supposedly responsible for your demise."

"My motives are none of your concern."

"As I have been ambushed by you I would say that they are very much my concern."

"Why did you kill Dumbledore?" Harry asked, poking Severus with his wand. He sneered.

"Wait," Ron said. "We won't know if he's telling the truth."

"I am a master of Legillimancy," Yaxley said. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"That explains a great deal," he said. His eyes flicked to Hermione. "Why were you not captured along with Potter and Weasley?"

"I…" She looked away, blushing. "I've been here."

"I see." He looked at Yaxley. "That _does_ explain a great deal."

"Why are _you_ here?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, and we want answers now, Snape," Harry said.

"Patience, Potter, has always been a trait that you lack," Severus said. "Was it not your lack of patience that led to your godfather's death?"

"Don't you talk about Sirius!" He received a smirk in reply. "Why did you kill Dumbledore? He trusted you. He trusted you!"

"Harry, calm down," Hermione said, watching the sparks flying out of his wand with great unease. "If you want him to talk, you have to let him speak."

"Stay back here," Yaxley murmured, pulling her behind him. "And you, Miss Lovegood."

"Are you playing the nanny, Yaxley?" Severus asked.

"Why're you even asking him anything, Harry?" Ron said. "Snape killed Dumbledore because You-Know-Who told him to!"

"I killed Dumbledore…" But he trailed off and shook his head with a sigh. "I am so tired of this. When Phineas told me that you were here – that _all_ of you were here – and what you were trying to accomplish, I felt it my duty to help you. Not that Albus approved." He laughed hollowly. "But he is a mere painting now, no matter how many things that he may hold over me. Yet only one hold… is necessary." He looked away. "It was my turn to decide what was best. What can he know beyond the workings of the school?"

"Perhaps you should start at the beginning, sir," Luna said.

"Yes," Yaxley said, his eyes never leaving Severus. "Start at the beginning."

* * *

><p>After much explaining – and viewing of memories in the salad bowl – everyone had sat in silent shock. Harry, especially, was having a lot of difficulty coming to terms with all that he had learned from his former professor. (Not even that particularly bad pun was enough to make him smile.) They decided to leave further planning until the next day. In the meantime, Severus returned to Hogwarts.<p>

Before he left, however, Harry had made a quiet request.

"_Sir," he said, accosting him at the front door._

"_What is it, Potter?"_

"_I needed to know if there was a potion that could help me."_

"_Oh, I rather think that you are beyond redemption." But his smirk suggested that he wasn't being entirely serious._

"_I've been having these weird dreams where I'm searching for something, but it's all fuzzy. Is there anything that will help… clear things up?"_

"_I shall send you something by this evening," he said after a slight pause. "I know something that may help you."_

"_Thank you, sir. And… I'm really sorry about everything. If I'd known…"_

"_It makes no difference now, Pot… Harry."_

"_But I needed to say it. I never had a real father figure; the closest I ever got was Sirius, and maybe Remus, but I didn't see them much. And you were always there to look after me, even though you only did it for my mother. Dumbledore was more like a grandfather, so I guess…"_

"_Don't say it," he said. There was a strange sadness in his eyes as he studied Harry. "If you say it…" He shut his eyes and pinched his nose. "Not with her eyes, and looking so much like your father."_

"_Okay," Harry said, nodding._

"_I will floo here this evening and bring you the potion."_

Lying in bed, Harry swallowed the Lucid Dream Draught. It didn't taste too bad; a bit like peppermint and vanilla. He settled back, hoping for a peaceful night despite the revelations of the day.

A horcrux. Dumbledore knew all along that he was a horcrux. And he concealed the fact that Professor Snape had been in love with his mother since they were children. Everything made sense now; wonderful, horrible sense.

He had to die for Voldemort to be killed. In other words, the prophecy was…

Then the glass vial crashed to the floor as Harry fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Yaxley didn't join Hermione that night, which was just as well, as she had to make a dash to the loo in the early hours again.<p>

When she went downstairs she could hear voices in the living room. As she got closer she recognised them. The men were obviously arguing about something. With her ear to the keyhole she could finally make out their words.

"…irresponsible. She is just a girl, Yaxley. I thought I knew you better than that."

"Have you seen her, Severus? I couldn't resist."

"You stole her innocence. In the absence of her parents, I wish to know your intentions towards her. _And_ your feelings. Do you lo…"

"Feelings? For a _Mudblood_? You must be…"

Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth to silence her gasp. She hurried away, wanting to have breakfast before anyone else in case they wanted anything that made her feel sick.

Though nothing could make her feel worse than she felt right now.

* * *

><p>Severus was going to take Luna back to Hogwarts today, but he wouldn't be able to visit much – if at all – after that. So it was now or never.<p>

"Professor Snape," Hermione said, pulling him into the room with the Black family tapestry, as that was the nearest and no one would think to look for them there.

"What is it, Miss Granger?"

"I need you to cast a spell for me, sir. I didn't know who else to ask."

"Which spell?"

She looked down at her hands. "A… a spell to check for p-pregnancy."

"Ah," he said, and his eyes narrowed. "I see. Lie down flat and keep your hands at your sides."

When she was in position he knelt beside her and began to chant while waving his wand over her abdomen. Eventually a small pink blob appeared. Severus ended the spell and helped her stand.

"What did it mean?" she asked.

"Congratulations, Miss Granger," he said, sheathing his wand. "You're expecting. Without a test less basic than that one, I cannot give you an exact time, but you are in the first trimester, judging by the size of the form."

"Is it a girl?"

"The colour pink means that the baby is healthy. It is not a determination of the gender. As I have said, you need a more thorough examination." He cocked his head. "I need no longer speculate about your feelings."

"Yes, but he doesn't feel the same way about me," she whispered, leaning against the wall. "I _would_ end up giving my heart to the wrong man, wouldn't I? All these years of thinking about Ron, and all it took was one missed jinx to end up changing me completely." She laughed as she shook her head. "He's a Death Eater, and I'm a Mudblood. Just like he said." She felt her eyes welling up.

"Here," Severus said, handing her a handkerchief. She accepted it with a watery smile. "Miss Granger – Hermione – if there is one thing that I have learned of my mistakes, it is that lashing out at someone is a defence mechanism, and that the more you care about someone, the harsher you will be. Being rejected by the one you love the most is the worst thing a person can feel. I know from experience."

"Yes," she said. "Of course. But… but…"

"What did Yaxley tell you about magical pregnancies?"

"That a witch can only fall pregnant when she's in love with the man."

"Hmm."

"Anyway, you must get Luna to Hogwarts. I'm sorry to have taken up your time. I just wanted to be sure."

"Do inform me of your plans."

"We will, sir. And thank you for all your help."

"Do not lose faith, Miss Granger." He turned to go, but she asked him one last thing.

"What's his first name, Professor?"

His lips twitched. "Ask him yourself."

* * *

><p><strong>So, any suggestions for Yaxley's first name? I've got one in mind, but I'd like to hear (well, read) other people's thoughts. If I choose one of yours then you'll get full credit. I tried to find something appropriate starting with 'Y' because of Ms. Rowling's propensity for alliteration in names, but it was damned difficult to find something appropriate. I mean, how many names will go with 'Yaxley'?<strong>

**In the end, I've chosen a constellation. Credit will also go to the person who guesses it. (Hermitt isn't allowed to guess, since she already knows.)**


	8. Battle Approaches

"Battle Approaches"

Severus was the last man left standing of the Death Eaters on the next raid. He'd managed to help several Muggles and Muggleborns escape, even though he had had no warning and could therefore send no word. At least one innocent had fallen during the skirmish. However, help had arrived in time to prevent further devastation, and he assisted them in taking out his fellow Death Eaters, much as it pained him in many ways.

His last conversation with Harry still haunted him. It brought back old regrets and wishes, that he had really married Lily, and that Harry had really been _his_ son. In fact, had the child not looked so much like James Potter, and had he not reminded him so much of the one thing that he wanted – _Lily's love_ – then he would have adopted the boy as soon as Black was thrown into Azkaban. Anything to keep Harry from being looked after by people who hated him.

But, Merlin forgive him, he wanted the son of James Potter to suffer just as he had suffered most of his life. Just another regret to add to a long list.

He went to Rabastan Lestrange's body and yanked a handful of hairs from the dead man's head. These went into a small glass jar. Then he performed the same spell as Yaxley, turning Rabastan into a facsimile of himself, and swapped their cloaks and masks.

With a twirl of his robes, he Apparated straight to Grimmauld Place.

* * *

><p>"Welcome to our committee, Professor Snape," Harry said as soon as he was seated at the dining table with the others, trying to lighten the mood. Hermione looked pale and Yaxley kept stealing looks at her, frowning as he did so.<p>

"How far have you come with your plans?" Severus asked. It had been a week since he performed the test for Hermione, so he expected more headway. He should have known that taking the one Ravenclaw among them back to Hogwarts would have a deleterious effect on the planning. He arched an eyebrow at the parchment covered in scribbles, but with no definite ideas. "I fabricated my own demise for this?"

"You're closer to the Dark Lord than I was," Yaxley said. "And if we are going on the defensive then we must arrange a plan that can apply to any number of possible places."

"I still think that he's going to declare battle at Hogwarts," Harry said. "It was the closest he ever had to a home."

"To be sure, perhaps we should go on the _offensive_," Severus said. "Then we will be at liberty to choose a setting more suited to our purposes. On that note, have you contacted the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Ron, you should really contact your family and tell them that you're okay," Hermione said. "They'll want to know, and then they can notify the others."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Why haven't you told them yet? Yaxley said that we can use the floo network, since it's still undetectable."

"I've had other things on my mind," Ron said, glancing at Hermione sullenly. She was looking at the parchment, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I don't suppose there's any chance that You-Know-Who might surrender?" she said. Ron snorted.

"You must be joking," he muttered.

"It's very unlikely, Hermione," Yaxley said, placing his hand on hers. As soon as her gaze snapped to his he let go. "Why do you ask?"

"Under what circumstances would he – or any of them – surrender? The majority of them are Slytherins, so surely you and Professor Snape must have some idea."

He sat back and looked at Severus. "Self-preservation."

"But how would one go about playing on that instinct?" the potions master asked. "Their every hope would have to be destroyed before they would give up, and they would need assurances of leniency. Otherwise, I cannot imagine them backing down."

"Ron, you're usually good at strategies," Harry said, nudging his friend's foot under the table.

"Look, I haven't got any ideas, all right?" Ron said, standing. "I'm going upstairs."

"Ron…" Harry trailed off as his friend marched out of the room. He sighed and looked at the others. "I'll floo-call the Weasleys."

"I am uneasy about leaving Hogwarts under the rule of the Carrows, or whoever will take my place there," Severus said as Harry left. "If it is possible, I would like to take Hogwarts back from the Dark."

"We'll help, sir," Hermione said.

"We haven't long before my supposed death is discovered," he said. "With any luck, the Carrows may battle it out to determine who replaces me. If we can catch them in such a vulnerable moment, and ward off the others who have admittance…"

"You're right," she said. "If this is the case, then we should go soon. Tonight at the latest." She checked the clock. "It's after three already. We should pack and then go. We won't even have to stay there in secret if we take over Hogwarts… and I can access the books in the library."

"I will inform… Harry," he said. As he leaned on the table to stand he looked at Hermione and then at Yaxley pointedly. She shook her head slightly. "Miss Granger." She averted her eyes. "_Hermione_. For Merlin's sake, you must tell him. He should hear it from you, and the sooner the better."

"What?" Yaxley asked, looking from one to the other. "What is it?"

"I'll tell you," Hermione whispered. "In private."

"I shall go back to Hogwarts and assess the situation," Severus said, standing up. "Be ready to leave as soon as I call for you. I cannot guarantee that my office will be safe until I have seen for myself and made sure. Until later."

And just like that, it was Hermione and Yaxley, alone together.

"What do you have to tell me?" he asked. "Is it to do with Snape? Or is it one of your friends?"

"No," she said.

"Does it explain why you weren't in bed when I woke up last week?" Her eyes widened.

"You weren't there when I got back," she said.

"You had left! What was I supposed to do, when it was clear that you didn't want to be there with me?" He shoved his chair back as he got to his feet, glaring down at her. "How else was I supposed to take your absence…"

"I was sick!" she shouted. "I was going to come back as soon as… as soon as…"

"Wait," he said, touching her shoulder, suddenly concerned. "You weren't well? I could have helped you."

"Why would you help a Mudblood?" she said, eyes flashing with hurt and anger.

"Hermione, don't say that word…"

"You were perfectly fine saying it when talking with Professor Snape."

"You… you heard. Oh gods," he whispered, kneeling beside her chair. "Hermione, I was just… I didn't mean it. You must believe me. He was saying so many things which were true, and I didn't want him to get too close to the biggest truth of them all." He stroked her arms. "But you said you were sick. Is there anything I can do to…"

"I'm pregnant," she whispered. When she looked at him, she saw that his jaw had dropped.

"You're… you're pregnant?" he said.

"I am."

He smiled, and for once it was a beautiful thing. Immediately, he stood again and pulled her into his arms.

"I'm going to be a father?"

"You are," she said, smiling up at him, but still cautious. He cupped her chin.

"Then you love m…"

"I do. Otherwise I wouldn't be in this state."

He kissed her gently and slid a hand down to her abdomen. She relaxed into his embrace, thankful that the professor had been right.

"How far along are you?" he asked, his lips still just touching hers.

"About a month and a half," she said. "When you asked whether I needed Pain Relief Potion after you'd been away all that time, I realised that I was late."

"Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry," he said, drawing her close. "I never thought this would happen."

"I know. After all, I'm not Pureblood." He went to speak, but she didn't notice. "Oh well." She pushed away from him and then took his hands. "Madame Pomfrey might be able to do a proper examination."

"Why does Severus know?"

"I asked him to perform the spell," she said. "There was no one else I could ask."

"I suppose not. Gods, this is a relief."

"Why?"

"I thought… well, I thought…" He shook his head. "Never mind. I have my answer now."

"He did tell me to ask you what your first name is," she said. He grimaced. "Honestly, how bad can it be? Our baby should have…"

"Your _what_?"

"Oh dear," Hermione murmured, turning to face Harry and Ron. She shuffled in front of Yaxley. "Please don't be angry."

"Hermione, are you pregnant?" Ron asked. She nodded. "By… by _him_?" She nodded again, wanting to cry at Harry's look of disgust. "So… you're in love with him?"

"Yes, okay?" she said, still holding one of Yaxley's hands. "I rather thought that that went without explaining."

"And he's…"

"Hold on!" Harry said. "How did this happen?"

"The usual way," Yaxley said, arching an eyebrow. But Harry's murderous expression stopped him from saying anything else. Instead, he surreptitious moved his hand closer to his wand.

"But you can't be in love with a Death Eater, Hermione," Harry said, pointing at him. "I mean, he hates your kind!"

"Yet he cares about me," she said. Ron blinked.

"Cares… cares about…" He shook his head. "Uh, right." He frowned at Yaxley. "You're definitely the father?"

"Of course he is, Ronald," Hermione snapped. "Putting aside my character – since you've already done that – thing of it like this: who else _would_ it be? Until you three showed up, and then Professor Snape, I hadn't seen anyone else for months. I never even saw Dobby."

"Well, uh, then congratulations, I s'pose," Ron said, pulling on Harry's sleeve. "We'll leave you two alone. Come on, Harry."

"No need, Mr. Weasley," Yaxley said, less tense now. "We're going to go upstairs to celebrate, if you'll excuse us."

Harry spluttered as the couple brushed past them and climbed the stairs. He was still protesting when Ron dragged him into the living room.

"You're not gonna just let this go, are you?" he asked. Ron sighed.

"I have to, mate," he said.

"But you've been sulking all this time…"

"I didn't know that she was pregnant."

"Well… what difference does that make?" Harry asked, waving his arms around. "I mean, it just shows that they should've used protection."

"Harry, there's nothing like that in our world," Ron said.

"After she's had the baby then you can be together, can't you?"

"Listen." He grabbed Harry's arm to stop him pacing around. "There's something you need to know about magical pregnancy, and I bet he hasn't told her everything."

* * *

><p>"Shouldn't we be packing?" Hermione asked as Yaxley placed her on the bed. She bit her bottom lip as he magicked their clothes off.<p>

"We've got time," he said. "And it only takes a few spells. Besides, what do we have to pack? You keep everything in that bag of yours, and most of my things are at my manor house."

"W-well, I've got to remember to get the rest of the food out of the cupboard b-before we go," she said, though the way he was kissing her body was quite distracting. "And we need to f-finish contacting the O-order…" She gasped when he sucked on her left nipple.

"That's enough talk," he said, nuzzling her breasts. She whimpered. "It's time for something much more enjoyable."

"Actually, t-talking can be quite… quite…" Now he was laving her other nipple as he raised her knees, and she fell silent.

As soon as she was prepared, he plunged into her, remembering just in time to lock and Silence the door.

And then all coherent thought fled.

Afterwards, they were cuddling as each considered the future. Yaxley finally felt that he should speak.

"Hermione," he murmured. "There's something I have to tell you about magical pregnancy." When he looked at her, however, he saw that she was asleep. He sighed. "I'll tell you later, then. And be prepared to marry me, Hermione Granger, because marry me you shall."

* * *

><p>The Carrows were indeed battling it out when Severus got back to Hogwarts. A special assembly had been called in the Great Hall as soon as his 'death' had been announced. The teachers were keeping the students out of the way of the duelling, shields in place. The fighting was so intense that no one noticed the headmaster enter the room; not at first. By the time they did the Carrows were getting tired. He breached the shields, Stunned both combatants, and then removed the wards.<p>

"The students may return to their rooms now," he said, not looking at anyone. When no one moved he whirled around, robe billowing, and glared at each and every one. "Now! The Heads of Houses and other teachers will meet me in the staff room in three hours' time. Horace," he murmured as the potions professor walked by. He halted.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Ensure that your charges will stay put," he said, still in hushed tones. "Ward the Slytherin Dungeon so that none may enter or leave it."

"_Severus_?" Horace whispered, his eyes wide. "Why?"

"I will explain in the common room." Then he noticed that Luna was staring at him, and called her over as Horace toddled off.

"Hello, sir," she said.

"Well, Miss Lovegood?"

"Here it is." She pulled the diadem out of her book bag and handed it to him. He concealed it beneath his robes as smoothly and discreetly as possible. "It didn't take long to find at all."

"Good. I must go to Gringotts. Have you told your friends what you saw in my memories?"

"No, Professor. They still think that you're a murderous git." She looked at the two former co-Heads of Hogwarts. "What will you do with the Carrows?"

"I will deal with them soon. Do not concern yourself with their fate, Miss Lovegood. I can assure you that it will be unpleasant."

* * *

><p>It was child's play getting to the Lestrange vault. The difficult part would be finding and acquiring Hufflepuff's cup. He had used a spell to alter his voice, knowing that his own would be too recognisable, even though the goblins knew better than to question either Lestrange brother. (Or Bellatrix, for that matter.) If he survived the war then he would try to improve upon the Polyjuice formula.<p>

Once inside the vault, he had to use the Imperius Curse on the goblin – Pullaxe – to tell him of any traps.

"Wait there," he said, still using the curse, and then he explored the room as quickly as he could. Thanking Merlin for his observational skills, he eventually found the horcrux.

They managed to get past the dragon and into the cart well enough. It was when they got to the foyer that trouble hit.

Severus took a sip of the Polyjuice Potion with Rabastan's hair in it, and then ended the curse and altered the goblin's memory. That was simple. As they neared the foyer, however, they heard shouting.

"Snape's alive, and he's turned traitor!" Rodolphus was yelling. "His 'body' is my brother's! Has anyone been to my vault?"

Pullaxe turned to Severus, who immediately Stunned him.

Of all the times not to have an Invisibility Cloak…

* * *

><p>Hermione was awoken by a knock at the door. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.<p>

"What is it?" she called. Yaxley smiled at her from where he was dressing.

"I haven't removed the Silencing Charm yet," he said.

"Er, I hope you're listening!" It was Harry. "Professor Snape said that it's safe to floo to his office, and then we're supposed to go to the staff room. Um… yeah. That's it. And, er, congratulations. I guess." She could practically hear him scratching his head. "We'll be downstairs when you're," he cleared his throat, "ready."

Hermione blushed as Yaxley removed the spells from the door. She pulled on the clothes that he had picked out for her.

"Thanks," she said.

"Hermione," he said, "there is much to discuss, but we haven't time. I only hope that I survive the battle…"

"What about me? I have to survive the battle, too."

"You're not going to fight," he told her, reaching for the door handle. "You are pregnant with our child."

"And you are the father of this child," she said. "I cannot risk you dying, either. I will fight by your side if I must, but I _will_ fight. Ever since this war began I've known that my place will be on the battlefield in the end."

He sighed and stroked her cheek. "I wish you'd never been caught up in this."

"And be dead by now just for being a Muggleborn?"

He paled. "We will win. We will win, because that can never happen again."

When they got downstairs Ron and Harry were waiting for them. Ron was smiling for the first time in days.

"I've got it," he said. "I know how to make them surrender."

* * *

><p>Horace was the last to the staffroom.<p>

"Is it done?" the headmaster asked, still nursing a headache from where Rodolphus had nearly cracked his skull open with a particularly nasty hex.

"Yes, but I still don't understand why."

"Is _what_ done?" Minerva asked, frowning at Severus, even as he continued to heal various cuts and bruises on his arms, legs and face.

"The Slytherins cannot leave the dungeons," he said. "They will not be able to interfere."

"With what?" Pomona said.

"I don't know," he said through clenched teeth. "I hope that our guests shall enlighten us upon their arrival." He managed to hide his look of surprise when he heard a knock. He strode over to the door – with only a slight limp – and let out a long breath.

Sure enough, it was them.

"Right on cue," he muttered, and he opened the door wide. "It must be a headmaster's privilege."

* * *

><p>After the meeting the headmaster summoned Luna to his office, where the sword of Gryffindor was lying on his desk, Hufflepuff's Cup and Ravenclaw's Diadem beside it. As soon as Luna was seated opposite she tilted her head. He answered her unspoken question.<p>

"You found the diadem and you are in her house," he said, pushing the tiara towards her.

"Very well, sir," she said. She stood and picked up the sword. "You may want to sit back for this. I don't quite know how it will work out."

"I am here if you need me," he said.

She looked like a wispy, slip of a girl, but her battle experience proved otherwise. He hoped that it would sustain her through the fighting to come. He was dragged from his musing as she brought the sword down and through the diadem. They both moved back as the horcrux screamed and bled out from where Luna had split it in two. Finally, it was over.

"Well… that was an interesting experience," she said. He allowed himself a chuckle.

"Indeed. And now it is my turn."

"Here you are." She gave him the sword and he raised it directly over the cup.

"After the trouble I went through for this, it had better work," he muttered. In a blur, he swung the blade downwards until it severed the horcrux in half, destroying the piece of blackened soul inside. Once it was dead, he dropped the sword onto the floor and collapsed back in his chair. It felt like an anticlimax.

"Well done, Professor Snape," Luna said, smiling vacantly at him.

"Now it's just the snake and Potter," he said, looking into the distance.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you all for your numerous suggestions for Yaxley's first name. He still hasn't told Hermione yet, but he will.<strong>

**A question: do you want Professor Snape to die? I had him dying in my story notes, since I usually save him in my stories and I'm trying to be a bit more diverse. But if you want him to live then please let me know. In fact, I've written two different 'endings' for him, so it's entirely up to you (the majority). As I have said before, I'm nothing if not flexible. *Grins***

**And if he lives, do you want him to end up with someone? If so, who? There are strong hints of Severus/Luna in this story, I must confess. Not that I'm pressuring you or anything. They just happen to be interacting… a lot.**

**(I shall proceed to look innocent.)**


	9. The Trick

"The Trick"

It threw Voldemort and his followers to see two of their best fighting against them, especially when they were supposed to be dead. That gave the Light a big advantage, at least when battle commenced. In fact, they had many advantages thanks to timely preparation. Despite that, they had still suffered a few losses and several serious injuries. Now the Dark had retreated to the Forbidden Forest after an intense starting battle.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked. He was staring out across the grounds. Even though the Light was ahead, Voldemort had decided to give Harry an hour to come to the forest and meet him for a one-on-one battle before they stormed the castle again.

"Of course," he said, playing with the Snitch. "I am ready to die."

"That isn't what I m…"

"Look!" Ron said, pointing. The golden ball had opened, revealing an interesting stone.

"It's from the ring horcrux," Harry said, looking at it in amazement, tipping it into his hand. "Why did Dumbledore want me to have it?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "But I'm sure it's important."

"Yeah." He rolled it about in his hand, liking the feeling.

Suddenly, however, three ghostly figures appeared in front of him; three figures that he knew well.

"Sirius," he whispered, looking at the image of his godfather. "Dad? Mum?" They all smiled at him. He quickly turned to his friends. "Am I seeing things?" They shook their heads, staring wide-eyed at the spirits. "Why are you here?"

"Moral support," Sirius said.

"_Emotional_ support," Lily corrected, shaking her head. Then she looked at Severus, who couldn't tear his eyes away from her. His limp from the debacle at Gringotts two days before had returned with the fighting, but he couldn't have moved anyway.

"Mum," Harry said. "He's done so much for me."

"I know," she said. "I can talk to him, just as he can talk to me."

"Lily," Severus whispered. He looked terrified as she floated over to him. Everyone – even the most curious – felt that they had to look away from the scene, no matter what happened. James and Sirius turned to Harry.

"You can do this, son," James said. "We'll be there with you every step of the way."

"And I'll be following you under the Invisibility Cloak," Ron said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, Gryffindor's sword at his waist. "You'll never be alone, mate."

Hermione noticed that Lily's 'ghost' had led Severus away from the crowd, over to some fallen stonework which had nearly crushed Yaxley. That had been a terrifying moment, when – bless his heart – Fred Weasley had yanked him out of the way in time.

Her mind then turned to the stone. Something Ron had said… that's right. The cloak. A stone and a cloak. These reminded her of something. The question was: what?

"I have to go now," Harry said, loudly enough for his mother and Severus to hear. Lily leaned over and kissed the lips of the man who loved her, even after death, and then rejoined her husband and his friend at her son's side.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny said, her voice thick with tears. She threw her arms around him. "I love you!"

"I love you, too, Ginny," he said. "Just be happy when it's all over, okay?" She nodded even as she cried. "You know this has to happen. Maybe I'll get lucky again."

"You'd better," she said.

Hermione was thinking so hard that she almost missed Harry saying her name. Then she held him tightly, not wanting to let go.

"There's something I'm missing," she said. "It feels so important."

"Nothing can stop this, `Mione," he said. He gave her an extra hard squeeze before releasing her. "I'll miss you, sister."

"Good luck," she whispered as he – and an invisible Ron – left to meet his fate.

"Hermione," Yaxley said, touching her arm. "Do you think that Severus…"

She turned around and buried her face in his chest, trying to muffle her sobs as she clung to him. People still found it hard to believe that she could be so affectionate, let alone comfortable, with this man; but Ron, Harry, Severus and Madame Pomfrey were all able to attest to the seriousness of their relationship, and how strong it was. They just skipped over the pregnancy part.

"I don't want him to die," she said, shaking her head. "I d-don't want him to die!"

"Death comes to everyone," he said, stroking her hair. "And he's done this before."

She froze in his arms, and he wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. He noticed Severus coming back to take his place again at Minerva's side, eyes red but with a twinkle that had never been there before. He even appeared to stand taller, despite the tremble in his lower lip.

"I've got it," Hermione said. She broke away from him. "I've got it! I know what the stone is. I know what it all means!" Then she turned and ran out of the hall.

"Hermione!" he shouted, and he raced after her, although she had a headstart and was much younger. She had soon caught up with her friends and was speaking to them. He stayed back, hoping that it was the right thing to do. She returned to his side as soon as the boys continued to walk down to the Forbidden Forest.

"It may not help – and my conjecture is based purely on a fairytale – but it explains a lot," she said. Then she noticed his dark expression. "What?"

"You ran out of there without a thought to your own safety," he said, trying to keep his voice controlled, but having great difficulty. "You're pregnant, yet you thought that it was wise to go haring off after your friends…"

"I may have helped save Harry's life," she said. "Yaxley, please. Let's just go back inside, okay?"

"Fine," he said. "But…"

"I know."

They had barely set foot in the Entrance Hall when there arose a war cry from across the grounds. The remaining Death Eaters – and there were still a good number of them, all powerful witches and wizards – came running towards the school.

And so the fighting continued.

* * *

><p>It was Neville who saw the green light first. Many others turned in time to see it. Then the duelling ground to a halt as someone emerged from the darkness a few minutes later.<p>

"It's Harry!" went up the cry. Sure enough, a boy with green eyes, black hair and a lightning-shaped scar walked into the light, with a body floating beside him. A body which looked remarkably like…

"The Dark Lord," a Death Eater said. Then another, and another, each sounding more shocked than the last.

"The Killing Curse rebounded again," the boy said, looking around at all assembled. He let the body fall to the floor. "Who wants to surrender?"

There was a long silence after he spoke. The Death Eaters – the active ones – were clearly weighing up their options. The entire Auror department had come to the aid of the party and were prepared to make arrests.

"We are willing to show leniency to those who come quietly," Kingsley said, taking charge. "Reduced sentences can be just the start of it. If you continue to fight it will be worse for you."

One by one, they stepped forward and allowed themselves to be bound, speechless with shock. The most powerful among those still standing – Dolohov, Nott, and Rookwood – were sent to Azkaban first. Then the others from the inner circle who were able to walk were taken into custody next, followed by the remaining werewolves. Tonks had killed Greyback after he tried to bite her, Severus had finished off what he had started when he and Rodolphus duelled at Gringotts, and Neville and Mrs. Weasley had taken out Bellatrix.

It was while the Aurors were partway through the last thirty or so remaining Death Eaters that Voldemort showed up, just as the Polyjuice Potion wore off, turning 'Harry' into Ron.

The Aurors were torn between helping to subdue the Dark Lord and sending his followers to Azkaban. The decision was soon taken out of their hands.

"Relashio!" Voldemort shouted, freeing some of his Death Eaters. It caused a chain reaction until the rest of them were liberated and fighting back.

"Ron!" Hermione called, running to her friend's side where he was duelling alongside Lucius Malfoy, who had switched allegiances at the last minute when he saw whose side Severus was really on.

"What is it?" Ron asked, and he Stunned his opponent.

"Where's Harry?"

"I dunno. I killed the snake while he distracted You-Know-Who, and then came back here with the dummy."

"Luna destroyed the diadem and Professor Snape did the cup, right?"

"Yeah." They were now fighting four Death Eaters between the three of them, and the time for conversation was over.

* * *

><p>The talk with Dumbledore in the afterlife – or was it between-life? – kept churning in Harry's mind. Hermione had been right, of course. He hoped that she was right about Yaxley, too, although the pregnancy proved that in itself.<p>

He really did just want to die, and let someone else fight this last battle. But he loved Ginny, and she loved him. He wanted to be a father, and he wanted Ginny to be the mother of his children. To do that, he'd had to be, well, alive. And it was his right to see this through to the end. He may not have been there from the beginning, but he'd been there from _his_ beginning.

When he saw his friends and Mr. Malfoy being overwhelmed by the desperate criminals exchanging curses with them, he ran faster and leapt up the stairs in the Entrance Hall. Unnoticed, he slipped in beside them and soon the four Death Eaters lay prone.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed, and she hugged him. As soon as she let go Ron thumped him on the back.

"Knew you could do it," he said. "You're bloody invincible."

"I know," Harry replied, grinning. Then his smile faded when he saw Voldemort taking on Severus, Yaxley and Remus. The blood drained from Hermione's face, and she began to weave her way through the other fighters, though the numbers dwindled, until she reached them. There, she joined the lightshow of silent spells.

In one moment, she stepped on a piece of fallen masonry and stumbled. Seeing this, the enemy struck.

"Sectumsempra!" Voldemort shouted, wand aimed at her. But she never felt the sting as something black blocked the spell.

"Professor!" She dropped to her knees beside Severus while Yaxley tried to kill Voldemort. "Professor Snape, what's the counter-curse? Tell me, quickly! I won't let you die."

"Yaxley, stop," Harry hissed, grabbing his arm. Remus quickly shielded them.

"He almost…"

"I know."

Voldemort couldn't stop his look of disbelief when he saw that Harry had survived a Killing Curse for the umpteenth time.

"But he's mine now," Harry said, waving the others away. All duelling ceased as the two opponents faced off, circling each other in the middle of the war-torn hall. The others backed away, although the Aurors took advantage of this by surreptitiously binding the remaining Death Eaters so that they would be ready for transportation.

"You think that you can defeat me again," Voldemort said, yet he looked wary. "But the traitor has just handed over the power of the Elder Wand to me." He smiled maliciously. "You have no chance."

"Don't you get it?" Harry asked. "Professor Snape never had it. Draco Malfoy won the mastery of the Elder Wand when he disarmed Professor Dumbledore that night." He could have laughed at the disappointment on Voldemort's face.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "How many lives do you have left, Harry Potter? Enough to see tomorrow?"

"As long as I have a reason to live, I will."

Several people in the crowd erected shields when the two men began to spar for a few tense minutes. Then they stopped for a breather, and Voldemort continued to talk.

"And how did you manage to turn my men against me, I wonder?" he said. "Will you throw them away when you are done with them?

"Professor Snape was never your man," Harry said. "He was Dumbledore's."

"He killed the old man."

"Because Dumbledore was already dying, and asked him to." He smiled. "Severus Snape loved my mum most of his life. Didn't you know that? They even have the same Patronus. I've seen it."

"And Yaxley?" Voldemort glanced at him before returning his attention to Harry. "You were one of my best. Why would you leave my ranks?"

"Because I fell in love with a Muggleborn," Yaxley said. At that, Voldemort stopped moving, and everything went quiet.

Hermione looked up from Severus, who was better already and struggling to sit up. She could feel her heart pounding.

"You did?" she whispered. Yaxley smiled down at her.

"I did," he said.

"How touching," Voldemort said, sneering. He had started moving again. "But you have shown through your actions that love is a weakness."

"Love saved me, and love brought me back," Harry said. "It's a strength, not a weakness. You never understood that. When you die this time, that will be it. No one will mourn you. But when I die someday, I know that at least one person will miss me. Can anyone say the same about you?"

"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted. Harry blocked it.

"This is Draco Malfoy's wand," he said, still calm. "I won it from him. _I _have the power of the Elder Wand, Tom. Not you. You can't win. Just give up. Try to feel… remorse."

"Never! Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The spells connected in a dazzle of green and red; but Voldemort was no match for the Elder Wand's powers, and red prevailed in a brilliant flash that nearly blinded everyone. When it had ebbed, they saw that the Dark Lord was dead.

* * *

><p>"We'll get you to the hospital wing, Professor," Hermione said, still trying to stop him standing up.<p>

"I am fine, Miss Granger," he said, pushing her hands away. "Stop fussing. You healed me, and now I can go and heal others. No doubt I shall be required to brew more potions."

"Then I'll help…"

"No, you won't," Yaxley said, pulling her into his arms. "You don't know what the fumes might do to our child."

"Your child?" Molly asked, staring at them in astonishment. "Hermione, are you pregnant?"

"It wasn't meant to happen," she said weakly. She scowled as Severus finally got to his feet. "You have to rest!"

"I may not be your professor at present," he said, dusting off his robes with as much dignity as he could muster, "but I will take points if you continue to talk to me in that tone of voice, Miss Granger."

"Git," she muttered. Then she saw that Mrs. Weasley was still watching her, as were many other people. The rest of the Death Eaters had been sent to Azkaban, fortunately, otherwise they would have had a wider audience.

"You mean, you're going to have his child?" she said.

"Yes, I am."

"I… I see." Then she said no more. Hermione turned to Yaxley.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"What is it?"

"That a witch can only fall pregnant when her wizard loves her back," he said, and he stroked her cheek. "And that their love is so deep that none can ever part them."

"Oh!" She beamed up at him. Then her expression changed, and she whacked him on the arm. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? I've been so worried that you didn't feel the same way…" He pulled her close and spoke into her hair.

"Because I was a coward," he murmured. "And I truly thought that love was a weakness."

She sniffled. "Okay. But you have to make it up to me later."

"Let me start now," he said, stepping back. Then he knelt before her, prompting many gasps from the crowd. "Hermione Granger, I love you, and if I don't end up in Azkaban for my crimes… will you do me the honour of being my wife?"

"Bloody hormones," she muttered, wiping the tears from her cheeks. But she realised that he was waiting for an answer. "Why are you asking? Yes! Yes, I'll be your wife."

* * *

><p>Rather than having a mass funeral, there was instead a memorial ceremony as soon as Hogwarts was repaired, which was a month and a half later. During the repairs Yaxley had whisked Hermione away to the Ministry's registry office, with the promise that they would renew their vows in a proper wedding eventually. He wanted them to be married before the child was born, but it would be inappropriate to hold such a celebration while everyone was in mourning. Unfortunately, they couldn't have a honeymoon until after the repairs, and then the memorial service.<p>

The wizard artist, John Rossetti, had crafted a statue which would stand in the Entrance Hall to mark the fall of Voldemort and the end of the wizarding war to end all wars. (They hoped.)

As Yaxley said, it could never happen again.

"Tell me if you need to sit down," he said, holding his wife around the waist.

"Ask me that again when I'm as round as a house," she said. Tears already adorned her cheeks and she was clutching a handkerchief in one hand. Of all the times to be pregnant and hormonal…

"Today we are here to celebrate the greatest victory since the defeat of Grindelwald, and to mourn those who lost their lives while making victory possible," Harry said. He hadn't wanted to be the master of ceremonies, but he managed to argue his way down to a short speech. "As long as we remember them, and the great sacrifices they made, they will never have died in vain. This sculpture will stand as a testament to the physical and personal battles overcome to bring a new dawn, a new age of tolerance, to our society and to the world."

With a wave of his wand, the velvet cover dropped, and everyone saw the monument for the first time.

It was made of sandstone – specifically Yorkstone – in the shape of the rune for peace: two triangles on top, flat sides to each other, and one triangle on the bottom with a diagonal line from the centre. Using a list of all those who had died fighting for the Light – with the exception of Harry, since he didn't stay dead – Rossetti had carved their names all over the rune in miniscule writing. The statue was mounted on a black, cylindrical pillar three feet high with excerpts of Harry's speech written in gold all around it

"It was well-written," Yaxley murmured to Hermione.

"I think Ginny may have helped," she said. "But they're really Harry's words."

Then Harry called for a minute's silence while they remembered the fallen. The Hogwarts choir had been practising in secret for this moment. In the spirit of acceptance they had learned a Muggle hymn, and after the sixty seconds was up they began to sing:

_Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;_

_The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide._

_When other helpers fail and comforts flee,_

_Help of the helpless, O abide with me…_

* * *

><p><strong>To all my readers in London… ARE YOU OKAY?<strong>

**Yes, yes. As always, I suck at battle sequences, or at least battle sequences in fan fiction. If I was making up something of my own for my original stories, that would be different, I expect. Do you know what I mean? I'm having to rewrite the final battle here, based on circumstances other than in the books. `Tis a great burden. Can't be too different, can't be too similar. Definitely no point in being repetitive, since I assume that you've all read the seventh book. At least I've been noncommittal enough for you to decide who survived and who didn't. Feel free to tell me who you reckon lived and who you think died.**

**So, as you can see, your requests were granted. He lived. Hurrah! If you want to read the version of this chapter where he dies, PM me with your email address and I'll send it to you.**

**And thank you once again for your name suggestions. It was hard to choose, especially since some were actually better than mine, which was Cepheus. As it is, he will **_**not**_** be Cepheus Yaxley, as you will see in the final chapter. And Hermione never uses his first name, by the way, since she – like us – has only ever known him by his last name. Oh, and he hates his first name.**

**If you like, I can put a link on my profile to a picture of the rune that I found. Just let me know if you want that.**


	10. A Year Later

"A Year Later"

The June after their first anniversary Yaxley took his wife and their eight-month-old child to Australia. While Hermione was pregnant, and then after the birth, she was in no fit state of mind to be dealing with any searches.

Back at his helm as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, however, he was able to contact the Ministry of Magic in Australia and get their assistance. He was fortunate that he had worked and fought against the Dark, as this gained him a partial reprieve. (It helped his case, of course, that he was married to the female third of the Golden Trio, the woman he called his own 'lucky charm'.)

He still had to pay a large sum to the Ministry and, of his own volition, even more to the various war charities. He also opened his manor to the homeless and those who were missing family and friends (until they could be reunited with those who had fled), although it took a bit of magic to extend the rooms and provide enough furniture. House elves from Hogwarts were seconded to the Yaxley Estate on a temporary basis.

Watching Hermione cuddling their son as they rode along in a train, Yaxley thought back to one of the scariest moments during her pregnancy.

_It was prior to leaving Number Twelve. Hermione was supposed to be packing the last of the food from the cupboard. Remembering the incident with the knife at Christmas, he decided to go and help her, especially now that he knew she was carrying his child. It gave him a warm feeling inside that someone actually loved him, and that he would be a father in less than a year._

_But when he stepped into the room, his blood ran cold._

_Hermione was standing on a rickety stool to get food from the enchanted cabinet. What she couldn't see was that one of the legs was about to give way._

_Just as it buckled under, he ran forward. Her scream was brief for he managed to catch her in his arms in time. He held her close, his heart racing, apologising softly._

"_You should have told me that it was too high," he said._

"_I thought you did it on purpose."_

"_Very likely, but then I forgot over time. You've nagged me about so many things that I'm surprised you didn't think to mention it." Then he kissed her passionately, not relenting until they had both run out of breath._

They were unwilling to travel great distances via floo or Portkey with a baby, knowing how dangerous it could be. Unfortunately, while they took as many trains as possible, the last leg to Australia had to be in an aeroplane, a nerve-wracking experience for the Pureblood wizard.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked, looking up at her husband from where she sat beside him. She had noticed him watching her intently.

"I'm thinking about how beautiful you are," he said, eyes sparkling in amusement. She blushed at the clichéd line.

"Liar," she said. She snuggled closer. "But you're very sweet."

"'Sweet'? No one has _ever_ called me 'sweet', my dear." She giggled. "I'm just thinking, with no specific train of thought."

"I see." She stroked her son's hand. They had named him after Severus for saving Hermione's life. Yaxley was still reeling over the fact that his firstborn was a boy, and credited it to Hermione being a Muggleborn.

This, obscurely, made him wonder about his sister.

"All right, now you're _really_ thinking about something specific, aren't you?" Hermione asked, noting his change in expression. He nodded.

"I wish I hadn't torn up Lysandra's letter," he said. Her eyes widened.

"You never told me that," she said.

"I thought better of it, and managed to repair the damage somewhat," he said. "But her writing had always been terrible before; my actions just made it worse."

"Which part of Europe was it?" she asked.

"No idea." He was staring out the window. "But I was sure that it was Europe at the time. Maybe she really went to Africa? I don't know."

"Can you find her? You found my parents."

"It was a long time ago, Hermione."

"Not _that_ long ago…"

"Yes, it was. I was only months out of Hogwarts, and had to go into work straight away. My father had enough time to change his will so that nothing would go to my sister, which was fortunate for me. I needed the money as well as the place to stay, and was provided for when he and Mother passed on." He stroked her arm absently. "I almost didn't have the time to become a… You-Know-What."

"But you made time."

"I made time," he said softly. "And I made even more time when I turned against them, so don't you forget that." They smiled at each other.

* * *

><p>The Yaxleys took a bus from the train station and, after a short walk, found themselves in front of the house where Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins lived. It was an old Queenslander, with a cream exterior and a red-painted, corrugated iron roof. Even without the brass house number on the wooden mailbox, she would have known who lived there… because sitting on the front verandah were her parents, sipping some kind of drink and relaxing on their cane furniture.<p>

"It's them," she whispered, tugging on his hand. "My mum and dad."

"I realise that," he said. Baby Sev was in a carrier strapped to his father's torso and was wearing a bucket hat with the Australian flag printed on it. It may have been winter but the sun was still blazing down from on high, and they were all wearing long sleeves to protect their arms. It was warmer in a Queensland winter than in an English summer anyway.

"What do I say to them?"

"Would you like me to do the talking?" he asked, fiddling with the clasp on the inside of the gate. She didn't reply. Finally they were walking up to the house, met by Hermione's parents.

"Good morning," Mr. 'Wilkins' said, standing up. "Can we help you?"

Hermione's tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She looked at her husband, and he took over.

"We're looking for Wendell and Monica Wilkins," he said.

"You've found them," Mrs. 'Wilkins' said, smiling at them. "What can we do for you? Dental work?"

"Could we talk about this inside?"

"Of course. Please come in."

Yaxley raised an eyebrow at Hermione as they followed the couple inside. No wonder she was a Gryffindor; her parents were too damn trusting. They probably would have invited him into their house in England if Hermione hadn't altered their memories, simply because they were that polite. Or maybe they just felt safer in Australia? He hoped that was the case.

"So what is this about? Are you both from Eng…"

A few moments later Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins were no more, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger were slowly taking their place.

* * *

><p>Hermione shrank back in her seat under her parents' angry glares. Her mother spoke first.<p>

"What… you… what did you do?"

"I had to do it, don't you see?" Hermione said, looking from one to the other.

"No, I don't see," her father said. "You violated our minds with your… your witchcraft. Turning teacups into feathers or something is one thing. But _this_?"

"I had to! It was the only way to save you!"

"Save us from what?" Mrs. Granger asked, crossing her arms. "Hermione, how could you do such a thing? It was so irresponsible. You didn't even ask our permission!"

"What girl does that to her own parents?" Mr. Granger said. "I'm too ashamed to look at you." He shut his eyes, shaking his head. "Just what kind of daughter are you? You used to be such a good girl…"

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, looking at her hands. Yaxley couldn't take it anymore and stood up, drawing his wand.

"Sit. Down," he said, voice low and dangerous. The Grangers sat. They could tell that he meant business, and exchanged nervous looks.

"We should just…"

"Be quiet, Hermione." He continued to stare at his in-laws, his gaze switching between them. "Now you listen to me. Your daughter did a very brave and selfless thing when she erased herself from your memories and convinced you to leave Britain." He rolled up his left sleeve and displayed the faded, but still noticeable, Dark Mark. The Grangers flinched. "I was one of those men once – a Death Eater. In fact, I led the team sent to your house to 'deal with' you." He closed his eyes briefly.

"We don't have to talk about this," Hermione said, touching his arm.

"They need to understand," he said softly, glancing at his wife. But he lowered his sleeve anyway before returning his attention to her parents. "A number of things could have happened to you. At best, you could have been killed outright with no pain, just to hurt your daughter. What is more likely is that you would have been captured, tortured and used to manipulate her, putting her in the position of having to choose between saving her parents and helping her friend save the wizarding world by defeating the Dark Lord. And chances are that you would be dead by the time she got to you." Seeing that the Grangers were suitably pale he sheathed his wand and looked at his wife.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered. She smiled shakily, knowing that he hadn't been exaggerating.

"The important thing is that it didn't happen," she said. "The important thing is that you reformed, and that I got to help."

"You're the reason I reformed. Come," he said, holding out his hand. "We will leave now."

Hermione blinked back tears. "Y-yes. We can go."

They were almost to the door when they heard footsteps. She braced herself, and Yaxley reached for his wand, just in case. But she was spun around into a warm embrace, one she'd been longing for ever since Sev was born.

"Mummy," she said, and she wept into her mother's shoulders. "I've missed you so much."

"I'm sorry, baby," Mrs. Granger said, also crying. "Oh, I'm so sorry. We should have known…"

"I didn't want you to get hurt…"

* * *

><p>It was awhile before the Yaxleys finally got out of there, with many promises of coming back to visit before they returned to England. They had to go through all the bad things first, wanting to make way for happier moments. Mr. Granger had given his son-in-law the third degree while Hermione and her mother changed the baby. Fortunately he seemed to pass the test; but it was still more nerve-wracking than the first time he had met Voldemort.<p>

They got to the gate and turned to wave to the Grangers when they heard a man next door.

"Lysandra! Phone for you!"

"Coming!" a woman called. She stood up from a garden bed near the fence bordering the two properties, and dusted her hands off on her overalls. Hermione could see an immediate resemblance, and looked up at her husband.

"Is it…"

"Yes," he said, watching the woman enter the house. "My sister." He smiled at his wife. "I told you that you were my lucky charm."

"Then let's go and see her…"

"Severus needs a sleep," he said, adjusting their son in the carrier. His smiled faded. "And I need to think about this."

They said good-bye to her parents and started to walk to the bus stop. Halfway there Hermione threaded her arm through Yaxley's.

"What did you mean?"

"About what?" he asked.

"When you said that you needed to think about meeting your sister. What is there to think about?"

"I haven't seen her since… well, long before you were born. If I didn't know that we were in love I would be worried about the age difference. But there's nothing we can do about it. Not that I would," he added quickly when she looked at him with big, hurt eyes. "Hermione, don't look at me like that. You know I love you."

"You're lucky you're just so darn cute," she said. She giggled at his expression. "Now tell me why you need to think about seeing her. Don't think that I haven't seen you looking at the few remaining photos you have. I even heard you saying that you wished Sev could know his aunt."

"W-when was that?"

"Not long after I came out of hospital. I was falling asleep while holding Severus and you came and took him from me to put him to bed. That was when I heard you say it."

"Oh." They sat in the bus shelter. "She'll hate me."

"She won't. You're her younger brother."

"I don't know whether I'm ready to face her."

"Just try," she said. "Look, my parents will be at work tomorrow, for afternoon surgery. We'll make a special visit to your sister."

"Hermione…"

"The bus is coming," she said, and she smiled brightly. "We'll come back tomorrow, and that's that."

He chuckled. "Yes, dear."

* * *

><p>This time they were pushing Sev along in a pram, their hands touching as each held part of the handle. The bus driver – along with some of the other passengers – had been very helpful when it came to getting the pushchair on and off, and they were still somewhat overwhelmed by the friendliness shown. Such a thing would never happen in London.<p>

"I'll get the gate this time," Hermione said as they walked down the street. But they ground to an abrupt halt when Yaxley stopped in his tracks.

"There she is again," he said, staring at his sister. She was working on a different part of the garden, and a man – her husband? – was kneeling in the dirt beside her.

"Come along," Hermione said. He didn't budge. "Oh, honestly." She stepped on his foot hard enough to make him notice her.

"What? This was a bad idea, love. Let's just…"

"Hello!" Hermione called, waving at the couple. They turned around, shielding their eyes against the sun. Shocked by her behaviour, he let go of the pram, and had to hurry to catch up to his wife as she moved forward, steering around the bumps in the path.

"G'morning," the man said, grinning at her from under his hat. "Can we help?"

"Oh my gods," the woman whispered, staring past Hermione. "Lysander? I-it can't be you."

"How are you, Lysandra?" Yaxley said, touching Hermione's side. She could feel his hand shaking, and felt a bit guilty.

"What are you doing here?" Lysandra asked. She glanced at the young woman. "I thought it was a joke, that you married a Muggleborn, let alone Hermione Granger."

"Hermione Yaxley, now," she said, holding out her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs… I'm sorry. I don't even know your last name."

"It's Mills," she said, still keeping an eye on her brother. "This is my husband, Bradley."

"You can call me 'Brad'," he said, shaking Hermione's hand, since Lysandra still hadn't moved. "You're one of the kids who saved the world, right?"

"Oh, uh, just a part of it," Hermione said. "It helps when you have the right people on your side." She gazed up at her husband. "Even if they weren't on the right side at first."

"Sandy kept hoping you might find us, `specially after the war ended and her brother turned out to be one of the good blokes."

"I was pregnant, and our son's only five months old this Tuesday. This is our honeymoon, and our anniversary. Actually, we found you by accident…"

"Let's get you inside," Brad said, opening the gate. He had to nudge Lysandra out of the way. Suddenly nervous, she tucked her blonde hair behind her ears, leaving muddy smudges on her cheeks. Yaxley kept close behind Hermione, glancing at his sister every so often as they followed Brad into the house.

* * *

><p>It was slow-moving at first, although they had had a long time to come to terms with what had happened all those years ago. Brad broke the ice with a joke about their names being so similar, and they admitted that their parents had had very little imagination. They hadn't even bothered to name their house elves or any family pets, and neither of the children had a middle name. For once, they really didn't care.<p>

Lysandra was a very forgiving person, and she adored her nephew. Her own three children were grown-up, and the youngest – Marie – was getting married in June. Her two brothers – Jack and Phil – had already moved away, but they were coming back to Brisbane for the wedding.

"We were actually planning to go to England after that, partly so that I could find you and hope that you could forgive me for running away like that, and for never getting in touch again," she said. When her brother went to speak she raised her hand. "No. I know how we were raised, and it took falling in love for me to see how wrong the old ways are. But I knew that I could never get any of you to see it my way, not until Jack came along. By then, it had been too many years. I knew that Mother and Father had died, and you… you joined…" She glanced at Hermione as she trailed off. There was an uncomfortable silence.

"I still have your note," he said. "But so many things were moved around when we had to accommodate all those people after the war ended."

"Her writing's terrible anyway," Brad said. He grinned. "I have to do the Christmas cards."

"Speaking of Christmas, where will you be for that?" Hermione asked. "I don't know whether my parents are going to move back to London…"

"We hadn't discussed that," Lysandra said. "If we could get work, we were thinking about moving there one day. Now that You-Know-Who is gone, and has been gone for some time… and since the children have now flown the nest… I would like to get to know my nephew." She tickled Sev's feet.

"How would you two like to come to the wedding?" Brad asked. The Yaxleys looked at each other.

"We'd like that very much," Hermione said.

* * *

><p>Baby Severus was finally asleep, fed, burped, changed and sung to. Before Hermione was even settled in bed Yaxley had pounced on her and proceeded to tear her clothes off.<p>

"Oh, for Merlin's… be careful!" she hissed. His smouldering look silenced her, and she even helped him rip open his shirt and whip off his belt.

"Now, I love our son very much," he said, removing her knickers last of all, "but we really haven't had much time to ourselves, and it's been far too long since we last made love."

"That's not quite true…"

"I haven't been able to take your properly, and that's bad enough. No more." He thrust two fingers into her and groaned. Thank the gods for magic, and the way it healed a witch's body. Even after giving birth she was still tight. If her hips were slightly wider, her stomach slightly softer and her breasts slightly fuller, she was all the more beautiful to him, knowing the reason for the changes. He curled his fingers up and she gasped loudly, hips rising off the bed.

"You're right," she said. "You're… absolutely… right." Her voice grew weak as he nibbled the skin of her neck while his fingers surged in and out, sliding through her gathering arousal. Sweet Circe, her body ached in need. She clutched onto her husband's shoulders and used her legs to pull him into place. With this explicit encouragement, he withdrew his fingers and then pushed into her, making her eyes roll back in her head.

As they moved to their climax, she recalled flashes of their wedding night…

_Hot skin… taking him in her mouth… swallowing… his tongue returning the favour… lips meeting… bodies rocking together as the passion built… whispers of love…_

"I love you," Hermione said, and she whimpered as she began to see stars.

"I love you, too," he said. "Hermione… my own…" His breathing grew erratic as he pumped into her harder.

Just then she tilted her head up and caught his mouth with hers. He held her tight in his embrace, and as soon as her lips parted his tongue delved between them and searched hers out. While their tongues danced their bodies continued to move frantically, soon reaching bliss. Fireworks exploded behind their eyes as they came together, parting only when the need for sleep became overwhelming.

* * *

><p>"You said once…" She trailed off, playing with the sheets. For the first time Sev had slept through the night, something for which his exhausted parents were exceedingly grateful.<p>

"What did I say?" Yaxley asked.

"That you assumed that you'd have to have a second child, because the first one would most likely be a girl."

"Yes."

"…But we have a son."

"Hermione," he said, rolling onto his side. "Do you want another child?"

"Do _you_?"

"Yes, I do," he said. He began to stroke her arm. "But only when you are ready. I think that I really would like to have a daughter. Seeing my sister again, being back in her life, has made me think. And seeing the way your father is so protective over you makes me want that kind of relationship. I want to be the over-bearing father who knows that no man will ever be good enough for his daughter."

Hermione smiled. "All right. But I want to finish my education first, and find work."

"You won't fall pregnant until it's the right time," he said. "Your body – your _magic_ – will know."

"Oh." She considered this. "Is that one of those things about magical pregnancy that you should have told me?"

"…Yes?"

"Then why did I fall pregnant in captivity? So to speak." She blushed.

"I have thought about that many times," he said, lying back. "I believe… that I needed a reason to defect, and that I needed to know that my feelings were reciprocated. And you needed your freedom. Our magic responded to those needs."

"I think you're right." She looked at him slyly. "So we can make love as often as we like, without unwanted consequences?"

"Unless our needs change, yes."

"I know what my needs are at the moment," she whispered, and she climbed onto him, straddling his waist. He smirked.

"Allow me to rise to those needs," he said, grasping her waist.

* * *

><p>On a visit to Hermione's parents, Lysandra and Bradley joined them so that the families could meet each other. Well, they had already met – in fact, were already friends – but now all barriers (including modified memories) had been removed, and things were going well. At least, that is, until dessert.<p>

"It's a bit cold for ice-cream, so I made fruit salad," Mrs. Granger said, setting a big bowl in the middle of the dining table.

Now Yaxley had always managed to avoid having fruit salad with Hermione, and this particular one contained all of the fruits that she had had that night, the one time he took her roughly and without preparation. He didn't want her to remember that time, not when they had so many happier memories of her imprisonment.

So he was understandably nervous when he looked up and saw that she had frozen.

Her face crumpled, and his heart nearly broke at the thought of her crying. But then she let out a squeak. And another.

In the next moment she had burst out laughing, tears of mirth falling down her cheeks, and he couldn't help but laugh as well.

THE END

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for your suggestion, Sarah Rensi. You made a very good point about Lysander and Hermione both being Shakespearean characters. Also, as I said to Mum, some parents just have no imagination when naming their kids, or at least put no effort into it.<strong>

**I hope you all enjoyed the fic. Let me know if you want to read another story with this pairing, especially since I already have one plotted. *Proceeds to look guilty***

**Also, let me know if you want a sequel. I'm getting used to sequel requests, even (or especially?) for the most obscure pairings; so much so that I've been picturing what I might do for this one. Probably something set while Severus Yaxley (whose middle name is actually 'Pictor', for those who are interested; initials SPY) is at Hogwarts. Of course, that means that we'd only get to see and hear about his parents every so often. Still, it's a thought.**

**And the last note: I created a story banner for this fic, which is on Flickr and my Facebook account. Ooh, and on Deviantart now. I made a whole bunch of story banners, actually, even if they're only quite basic. Let's be honest: I'm quite basic, and I use basic equipment.**


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